The silver lining
by IThinkIJustGleedMyself
Summary: A/U - Just when she thinks there is no hope, something comes into her life and changes it forever
1. Black clouds

**Another fic! It will be posted in two parts as it's quite long**

**Once again AU :)**

**Thanks to _Gillian Deverone _for beta'ing**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He has a pretty horrible feeling in his stomach. It's a heavy, churning sensation that, thankfully, he rarely feels, but today it's prominent. He eyes the banner "Blood Drive Today", accompanied by bright happy, yellow faces.

Finn feels anything but happy, and seeing the words only sinks his stomach further. He catches sight of Kurt, walking a few paces ahead of him, his nose up in the air as he observes the surroundings.

They'd kind of fought on the way over here. Well, not really. Just discussed it, or more his reluctance to give blood because they like stick a needle in your arm and take the blood _right_ front of you. He remembers having injections as a kid, and the pure fear that filled his body as the doctor neared with the needle.

And now he's going to do that voluntarily? Sort of. Because Kurt is not taking no for an answer.

He knows that it can help people and stuff, but he's still scared. He's supposed to be the big man on campus, the leader that isn't scared of anything. If the guys knew about the way he is worrying now, they'd surely laugh right in his face, or pelt him with paintballs again. Man, that sucked…

Finn now finds himself in front of the hospital, staring in intimidation at the large building, like it's going to swallow him up whole, which is kind of what feels like. He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing as he does so.

"Stop being such a baby," Kurt interjects. Finn rolls his eyes at his brother, suppressing a grumble.

"I feel kind of sick."

This causes Kurt to halt on the spot, spinning on the heel of his boots quickly. "You told me yesterday that you were happy to do this, and now you're as pale as a ghost. Don't tell me that you changed your mind?" He raises an eyebrow, folding his arms neatly across his chest.

The look that he sends Finn immediately drowns the taller boy with guilt. He can't just go back on his word, can he? And it's not like this is going to hurt anybody. On the contrary, it's going to make people better, and there could be someone out there right now who desperately needs some blood and it may just be him that helps them.

He'd like to be able to help someone, even if he never gets to see the effect that him giving this offers. He wants to be a good person. Who doesn't? And this is a selfless act, something that he's _relatively_ happy to do—but the thought of the needles is still creeping him out a little.

But then he's inside before he knows it, and they're cleaning his arm. He vaguely hears the nurse speaking to him, assuring him that everything is fine, and he doesn't need to be so tense. How can he not be tense?

Kurt sits beside him, though he refuses to hold his hand.

And before he knows it: "All done."

The nurse holds the syringe in her hand, the dark red color prominent inside, and he feels a little sick looking at it, or maybe that's because he's just had some of his blood taken out of him… Anyway, he doesn't feel too good. He feels really dizzy too.

"Finn?" Kurt questions, shaking him back into reality. He blinks a couple of times before giving a goofy grin in reply.

"Yup," he nods, the action feeling strange. He receives a wary look from his brother, though it's easily shrugged off as he sits himself in one of the plastic chairs against the wall, leaning his head against the cool surface. Man, that feels good. He wonders what's going to happen to his blood, and where it's going to end up.

* * *

Some days slip by without her realizing, the mundane repetition of a schedule – a thing which she used to live her life by – making the days mix into a haze, all blurred into one as though water has been spilled on the painting of her life. But then other days she sits and watches as the hands on the clock travel in a painfully slow circular motion, the rhythmic tick following each jerk of the plastic hand.

She wakes up that morning, feeling like death itself is hovering over her.

This is a bad day.

Her bones ache, a fatigue washes over the small, fragile girl lying in the hospital bed, her limbs hanging limply to the side. She lets out a long sigh, the air smoothing over her dry lips before she smacks them together.

The door begins to open, and her head slowly turns in its direction to see her nurse, Tina, pushing in the food trolley with her breakfast.

"Morning, Rachel," she smiles brightly. "How're you feeling today?"

Tina has worked here for just a year, and is one of the people that Rachel truly feels comfortable around. The woman can be shy, but she didn't mind sitting with Rachel and letting her talk about anything. And she also had solid and helpful advice whenever Rachel needed it.

She starts to sit up, wobbling arms acting as support, but she frowns at the pain that such a small movement brings to her body. "Okay," she says. She used to be as optimistic as Tina, she used to smile and tell everyone that it would be okay. Only, she doesn't exactly remember when she lost that – when she lost hope.

It had all started with a high temperature.

But her daddy had had the flu the previous week, and she supposed that she'd started to develop it too. She'd been weak and tired, and her weight quickly plummeted, not that she had much weight to lose anyway – another one of their concerns.

She was just jammed up with antibiotics and told that it'd be over in a couple of weeks, her body would repair itself.

It didn't.

The word leukemia bounces around in her mind. It still scares her, you know? It's been a long battle – two years long actually, and she feels like she's never truly been free of the terrible disease destroying her from inside. She fears that she doesn't have much time left. The very thought of leaving the world at the tender age of seventeen makes her insides churn uneasily, and her heart shatter into too many pieces to count.

The trolley is pushed over to the side of the bed, the old wheels groaning under the weight of the metal, resistant against the movement. She winces, trying to hide it as Tina sets up the tray on her bed and begins to add her breakfast to it.

"Are you hungry?" she questions gently, her eyes never leaving Rachel's.

Rachel feels herself smiling back – even if it is the tiniest of smiles – and she ignores the slight pain in her stomach before answering. "Not really." She doesn't remember the last time that she's really felt hungry, or looked at food and wanted it. Most days she feels like it's a chore to force each bite in, and she knows that it's important to eat, to give her more of a chance.

But sometimes she wonders why, and that scares her. How did she lose all hope so quickly? She should be fighting it with every fiber of strength she still has, yet lately she's been completely dejected and miserable. Even her fathers can't bring her back to her old, cheery self. Somewhere along the line, she got sick of it all. The visits, the medication, the _pain_, and when she'd been admitted to hospital full time, it felt like the final part.

She doesn't know how long she has – the doctors keep reassuring her that she has a chance, it might not all be over.

But inside, she can feel it. She knows, and she doesn't feel like there's much time left at all. Not only is her body dying, but her spirit has been led astray, riddled with worry and pessimism that the old her would be downright shocked at seeing.

She isn't the old Rachel anymore though. Leukemia beat her, it won. And now it's going to take her body as the prize, the final piece in this sick game that it's been playing.

Tina says something to her, but it falls on deaf ears. Rachel is in her own little world again, wondering what her life would be like if she'd been spared, if the disease had swept straight past her, not even casting a second glance.

It's silly, she knows, but she likes to wonder about things like that. It's such a human thing to do, to think about how things could have turned out differently, when she knows that nothing can be done about it.

Would she be dating anyone? She is a seventeen year old girl after all and, even as a child, she'd bore her fathers with long and elaborate tales of her prince charming, her high school sweetheart who'd sweep her off her feet and they'd run to New York for their happy ever after. It's never going to happen though. For one, she doesn't leave the hospital. Well, only when her dads take her on trips out, and then they're rare because the doctors worry for her health. Of course, these days are special and well planned (and also very rare) so that she will be safe, but she still feels like a prisoner to her disease during in those times.

"Rachel?" Tina questions, snapping the girl from her thoughts and forcing her to look into the slightly worried eyes of her nurse.

"Hmm?"

"Are you all right? You seem dazed."

She frowns. "I'm just a little tired," Rachel confesses, her gaze dropping to the white sheets covering her, and she idly runs her fingers across the coarse material.

Tina smiles and then nods sadly. "Well, eat up. You've got to have all of your strength for this afternoon. You've got a blood transfusion scheduled."

She pulls a face, though remains quiet. She hates the blood transfusions. Mainly because she always feels sick afterwards, and her arm feels a dull pain for a while. It's there to help her, to give her back what she needs, but she dreads each transfusion, and the pain that it brings.

She wonders whether it were painful for the person that donated it, and maybe even feels a little guilty. They don't even know where their blood ends up, but they give it up anyway – it's such a generous and selfless thing to do, and she's more grateful than she could ever say.

* * *

She smiles at the sight of her dads entering the room, both wearing the same expression as they reach their only daughter, pulling her into tight hugs. "I missed you," she mumbles into her daddy's shirt, feeling tears springing to her eyes. Somehow they always end up crying at times like these, not that she minds much because she know that her daddies love her, and that they hate to see her like this, all pale and weak.

"We missed you too," her dad, Hiram, smiles, stroking her hair delicately. "We're sorry that we're late."

His touch puts her at ease in an instant. Actually, their presence is enough to do that, the mere sight of them. Even the _smell_ of her fathers can set a smile on her face, because it's comforting and it's _home_, even if she resides in this old hospital.

"Are you okay? Have they been looking after you?" Daddy demands to know, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed. His face is serious, the care radiating from his deep brown eyes. He asks her these questions every time they visit – he'd even asked them on the phone yesterday.

"Yes," she giggles softly, feeling like a small child again with them, almost carefree too, but of course she can never escape her worries or doubts. She holds onto each of their hands, giving tiny squeezes to them, reassuring her fathers that she's okay, she's still got her strength.

They worry about her – she's all that they've got, and they don't want to lose her. What parent would want to see their child die before them? Their grips are stronger than hers, they don't want to let go, not now, not ever. She can sense their fears, and it makes her feel guilty. She's doing this to them.

When it first happened, they'd cried, and lost days of sleep. Her daddy could barely bring himself to go to work anymore, and her dad couldn't even look at her without the tears springing to his eyes. She's almost angry at herself, which is ridiculous; she didn't choose this, and she certainly didn't want it, but it happened, and she didn't stop it.

Her stupid body just gave up, and so did she.

Her dads haven't though. She hears them sometimes, when she's supposed to be asleep, begging the doctors to do something, anything to help her.

The doctors do what they can, but it doesn't stop her dads asking.

Leroy smiles, leaning forward to kiss her hot forehead, eyes gazing lovingly to Rachel. She's sat up in bed, back against the cold headboard. He immediately takes a pillow and gestures for her to move forward. Rachel does so, her stomach protesting in pain from its sudden compression, though it's quickly over once he's placed the pillow behind her.

"Thank you, Daddy," she says, falling into the soft comfort that the pillow offers.

She notices that her dads' free hands are joined together as well, creating a circle of connection between the three.

"How have things been at home?" she asks curiously. She always wonders things like this. Do they still carry on the nightly tradition of singing before dinner, or do they still have their Barbra marathons? Do they still bicker over that dream that her daddy had about Tony Danza?

She misses the simple things of her home life, and wishes that she could return there. "Everything's great Sweetie," her dad tells her, like he does every time she asks. This leads her to fear the worst, that they're just covering up so that she doesn't have anything else to worry about, because even more stress would do nothing for her condition.

"But we've missed our little star." He taps her nose affectionately, his eyes bright.

"That's right," her daddy smiles beside him.

They easily fall into conversation, her fathers doing their best to avoid talking about her illness – they do this a lot, ignore it. Ignore the thing that's in plain sight of them. Anyone comparing a picture of her from two, three years ago and the girl before them now wouldn't even recognize her.

So she has no idea how her fathers can keep the subject away from it, how they can keep on talking about Broadway and their silly little fight on Tuesday, and not slip up, not even once.

Her eyes droop closed for barely a second.

"Are you tired?" comes the fast, immediate response, worry dripping in her daddy's voice, "do you need to rest?"

"I was just closing my eyes for a second," she smiles, because he's being a little ridiculous. It's not like she's falling asleep on him! She'd never do that – the last time she saw them at the same time was a couple of days ago, and she doesn't want to miss an opportunity for this from being exhausted.

It is true though; she hadn't slept much the night prior and it's quickly catching up with her. It's almost like a curse, always been tired, physically worn, yet being unable to drift into the unconscious bliss where she isn't bothered by the pain. She almost yearns for it to be constant, wishes that she could wake up somewhere else, somewhere where her body isn't breaking.

She's never tell her fathers, of course. Such suggestions would be a cause for concern, and they'd be sure to keep her under their watch at all times, if not by them, then definitely by the doctors and nurses. They'd think that she was considering suicide.

But she just… not that… she could _never_.

The thoughts stop in her mind, the track that they follow dying out and leaving them crashing to the floor clumsily.

It's just easy to get tired, isn't it? When you're only happy a small fraction of the time, it leaves you wondering what if would be like…

Rachel shakes her head quickly, wiping such things from her mind. Her fathers send her questioning looks, because she just shook her head when they were talking about the play that they went to last week.

"I was shivering…" she lies, and hopefully it sounds honest enough for them to believe it. They seem to do that easily, Hiram going to demanding more blankets for her from the nurse while Leroy hugs her, kissing her hairline.

"We'll sort it out for you, sweetie," he says, rubbing his thumb over his arm, though being careful to keep his touch light, not wanting to bruise her.

She wonders whether he wishes that he could "sort out" this illness, if he could find a way to eradicate it from her without pain, or any horrible consequences. She remembers the first time he'd come to the hospital with her, for her first blood transfusion. She'd cried at the sight of the needle in her arm, and then he'd cried at the sight of her tears.

"I know," she tells him. He probably wants to hear it – that after everything she still has utter faith in his ability to make everything okay. That's what a dad does, right? Looks after his children. She smiles, "I love you, Daddy."

His face lights up.

"I love you too, Angel."

* * *

She moves through the halls quickly, or as quickly as she can go, to find the right room. She smiles at Tina as she passes her, a bright smile that she rarely wears, and she eventually reaches the door, not even bothering to knock as she enters.

"Blaine!" Rachel smiles at the sight of her friend.

In return, he gives her a half smile, which turns into more of a grimace as he rubs at his left arm. "Rachel," he sounds equally as happy to see her, but then his face falls, "I heard that you stay here permanently now… I'm sorry." His big, puppy dog eyes meet hers, and she truly feels his sympathy.

She perches herself on the edge of his bed, body upright, and she ignores her aching limbs to talk to her friend, "I've been here for a few months now. You should have visited me." She pokes at his chest, frowning when it instantly causes him to wince. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to, I –"

"It's okay," he replies through a strained voice.

"But I –" She feels bad: she should know by now that it's important to be careful with Blaine, especially in times like this because he's probably much weaker, and in need of more care than she is at the moment, after being admitted here for the fourth, fifth, maybe sixth time this year. She knows that it's a lot, and there is more than one hospital too.

Blaine was born with a ventricular septal defect, or a hole in the heart to put it simply, but the thing is, said hole wasn't discovered until later on, _too_ late. This was when a younger Blaine was continuously fainting, clutching at his chest with strained fingers, and his skin gaining a blue tinge – the lack of oxygen to some of his muscles.

As well as the hole, which is just terrible itself, he has an irregular heartbeat, and this no doubt contributes to all of his problems. But he's already been through many surgeries, and she's sure that there are more planned, which is probably why he's here now.

The first time they'd met was when she'd been told her test results, the very same that were positive and unchangeable. Fifteen year old Rachel Berry had shot out of the room, as if leaving the place flooded with sympathy stares and a heavy atmosphere would let her forget, push the problem to the back of her mind. And then her feet had carried her outside, her physical exhaustion evident to anyone who went past her – that would be the disease.

But then she'd ended up in a garden, the hospital gardens by the looks of it, and it was sunny, and there were butterflies circling a large mass of yellow carnations, and it wasn't right. It was supposed to be gloomy and raining. When she was eight her class had to choose a flower and write about it. Eight year old Rachel Berry had immediately been drawn to the yellow standing out from the crowd – that flower was hers, and she was definitely going to write about it. And then she'd discovered that the flower symbolized cheerfulness which, in her mind, was perfect. Not only was she talented, but she was also the most cheerful girl in the class.

And seven years later, she sat by her favorite flower, and she felt anything but cheerful. In fact, she felt like the whole world was just about ready to swallow her up, lock her somewhere within the deep, hot core and keep her trapped.

A boy had come and sat next to her, his face pale, even as the skin basked in the glorious sunshine of the day. "Are you okay?"

The thing that caught her attention the most was that he wasn't giving her the same sympathetic looks that her fathers had been, or the doctor. No, his eyes held care in them, but it wasn't the same. It _felt_ different. It was like he knew, he understood what she was going through and there wouldn't be any promises of "everything will be okay" from him, because how is he supposed to know? Instead, he was offering her a friend, someone to be there right _now_, and maybe that was what she needed.

Rachel smiled at the boy, at his crazy curls on top of his head, at the hands that then clasped around hers. And she told him _everything_.

Two years later, they sit in his hospital bed.

"So what happened this time?" she questions her friend.

He pulls a face. "Just pain. Lots of pain. And then I don't remember passing out again – I must have hit my head too." He rubs at the back of his head, fingers moving through the unleashed curls. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been wearing more hair gel than she's ever seen on one person before, but she prefers this, this is better.

She frowns along with him. "Where were you when you passed out?"

"School," he replies, "I'm pretty sure that my teacher had a heart attack from just watching." Rachel giggles, moving to lie next to him in the bed, her legs stretched out and feet resting by his.

"I wish that you'd come to visit me more often," she admits, dropping her head against his shoulder.

"I know," he lets out a long sigh, "I didn't know that you always stay here now. I thought maybe – I thought that you were at home."

Rachel nods. It's a pretty easy assumption to make, seeing as the last time they spent the day together she was in rather good health, or as good as she can be. "What happened?" Blaine questions.

"It just…" she begins slowly, "it got worse. And I was too weak to do anything. I wasn't eating and still I'd feel pain, in my stomach, in my bones – and then I'd get a fever." She can feel his eyes burning into her skin. "The doctors thought that it would be best, with all of the blood transfusions and surgeries."

"Surgeries?"

"I had a tumor on my liver," she says, "a couple of months ago."

"It's gone now though, right?" Rachel finally turns to look at him, her friend, her only _true_ friend who understands what it feels like, how a disease or condition can take over your life in so many ways, and she can see the worry stitched deep into his face.

She offers him a tiny smile. "Yes, it's gone."

The relief spreads through his body, each muscle visibly relaxing.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yes," he smiles, "you're a fighter, Rachel Berry, and you're not going to let leukemia beat you."

Rachel feels herself grinning back at her best friend. Although she'd like to say that his words are true, that she can come out triumphant, she still has her doubts lingering in the back of her mind. But she wouldn't tell Blaine this – she wouldn't tell _anyone_.

"Well then the same can be said for you." She adds, "We're in this together, right?"

"Always," he smiles, placing his hand over hers.

* * *

Finn finds himself on the unfamiliar route to the hospital once more, this time sans Kurt. He would however call him and ask him to give him a ride home after his appointment, because he's not stupid enough to drive after he's just given blood. He can barely drive when he's in full health – if he's had a few pints of blood taken out of him, then those chances of not crashing are probably not the greatest.

He'd made the decision after doing more research and like, did you know that one donation can help four people? The can take the platelets or the red blood cells and it can help whoever needs it? If one Finn can help four non-Finns, then what is the harm in doing it again?

And it's barely any time until he's back in the office, a nurse named Tina talking him through the procedure.

"I know," he tells her," I've done this before."

Tina smiles, and wipes his arm with some antiseptic before she retrieves the syringe. "So what made you come back?" she questions, her voice sweet yet curious. "To be honest, we don't get many people like you here."

"Like me?"

"People your age," she admits. "It's a nice surprise. So thank you," she checks the chart, "Finn. You're helping out a lot of people."

"You think?" he looks up at her hopefully. It was one thing doing the research himself, but to hear it from another person is actually quite rewarding, and Finn is beyond happy. Maybe this isn't such a selfless act as he originally thought – because he's getting something out of it, the sense of helping others in need. Not that that's a bad thing, especially when he's giving his _blood,_ but it's just food for thought really. He can understand why people do this so much now, and that proud feeling growing in his chest is certainly explained.

Tina nods, and he carries on talking while the needle is stuck in his arm. He barely recognizes the slight sting when it breaks through the barrier on the skin, focusing on his words. "I did some research on this actually. Like, how you have to match in blood type sometimes. And then I asked my mom what blood type I am, but she didn't remember."

He peers up to Tina, a bright smile on his face: it feels nice being able to share his finding with someone, even someone who is already going to know all of this. "You're O negative," she says, "so your blood type is compatible with all of the others; basically you can give blood to anyone." She begins to extract the blood from his arm, and he averts his gaze.

"Really?" his interest pipes up. "That's so cool."

She smiles at him. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"No, but like, _anyone_. It doesn't matter who it is, just give 'em some of _my_ blood and they'll be better?

Tina lets out a soft chuckle. "But you have to remember that we only take a couple of pints of blood at each session, when there are thousands of people who need it."

This makes him decidedly more mellow, his smile reversing into a small frown. "Oh." It leaves him pretty sad to think of all of the people out there, needing blood for operations and such, but they can't have it because there isn't enough. What if he's never donated in the first place? Would that have meant the difference between life and death for someone? "At least," he begins, "I'm helping at least one person today."

"That you are." Tina removes the now full syringe, cleaning up his arm and placing a small bandage where the needle had entered his skin. It just feels a little irritated, though nothing more. "There was a very lucky girl to receive your blood in this hospital."

"_This_ hospital?"

He knows that she can't really tell him anything more, because there's like patient confidentiality and stuff, but he wants to know more. He wants to… no, that's stupid. He can't do that, right? He doesn't even know this girl and yet he wants to _meet_ her. It's like he needs to do it, like there's something drawing him in. Is that weird? Finn shakes the thoughts from his head.

He leaves quickly after that, waiting for Kurt to give him a ride home. It's not as bad as last time – there's no nausea and he only feels a little lightheaded.

"Come on, Rachel," he recognizes the voice as Tina's and his head jerks in the direction of its source, where he sees the nurse wheeling a girl out of the entrance. "You need to get some fresh air." The brunette sitting in the wheelchair doesn't look particularly happy to be arriving out here at the entrance. Although he thinks it's rather pretty, with the flowers and fountain, and large garden off to the side.

The sunlight hits her pale face, her sad features highlighted and becoming more pronounced. Her eyelids flutter closed and then fully open, revealing large chocolate brown eyes. "But," she begins to protest, "can Blaine not come too?"

"He's been told to stay in bed today," Tina tells her softly, as if she's worried that this Rachel girl is going to react badly to the news. Instead, she gives a dejected sigh. "And you've got another blood transfusion tomorrow," she adds, "so you won't be able to go outside then." She begins to wheel her through to the garden, the mass of greet grass and explosion of colorful flowers.

Finn stares at the path where they'd been only seconds ago. She'd said blood transfusion. Does that – is that the girl that Tina was talking about? It would make sense.

He tries to get another glimpse of her, of the girl who had potentially received his blood. Had he helped to save her life?

They're out of sight quickly, and Finn thinks about the girl, about how sick she'd looked. It makes him sad wondering what he'd do if he was in her situation – he's probably be as unhappy as she looked. But, despite this, she still managed to look pretty, beyond pretty actually. And he'd actually felt a little lightheaded, and not from just having given blood.

Would it be wrong if he could ask to meet her? He finds himself wanting to know more, his curiosity thirsting for further information about this girl, if she is in fact the girl that Tina was talking about.

* * *

"So you're on the waiting list too?" she questions Blaine as they talk, this time in her room.

He nods glumly, "I mean, I don't need a new kidney as much as you do, but I still need one." Blaine then sighs, "And now we wait, I guess."

"Oh, Blaine," she pouts, "you'll get one."

"You've been on the waiting list for over a year," he begins, "I just… I don't see how I'll get one soon."

"It'll happen Blaine," she rubs his arm gently. "It will." She's trying to convince herself more than him, feeling her heart sink further than her stomach at this terrible and sudden news. How could they not have noticed? Or maybe it had only just developed… In any case, the news of liver cancer is devastating to anyone, and on top of Blaine's other problems, the news is pretty hard to swallow.

Now he's in the same situation as her, the waiting game. Time slips by, but nothing gets better – always worse.

Rachel smiles sadly at him, wishing that he'd just get the kidney that he needed, so that he could live without the pain, the pain that she's becoming used to.

Her kidneys are broken beyond repair really and she's waited and waited for a new one, but nothing – _no one_ – has helped and so, she has to deal with it, but watching Blaine go through the same thing is painful to watch, painful to even think about.

If she could help him in any way, she would. If she had two healthy, fully functioning kidneys and they were a match, she'd give him one in a heartbeat, because she _knows_ what he's going through.

Blaine rests his head on her shoulder, letting out a long sigh. "It's hopeless."

"Blaine," she tries.

"Look, I know it is. I've accepted it, so I'm not going to convince myself otherwise." She starts to protest, to tell him that it's stupid and he's _going to get one, _but then she remembers herself when she'd first been put on the list, her hope deteriorating with each day that had slipped by and nothing had happened. She remembers the speech she'd given to him about it, almost identical to the one that she's just heard.

She takes hold of his hand, unable to say anything else – she won't lie to him anymore, but she can stay optimistic, for Blaine.

* * *

He lies in bed, feeling a little sleepy from the events of the day. It'd been another time where he'd donated. He doesn't do it often, maybe once or twice a month, because Kurt says that that's best.

His eyes open and close slowly, the room seeming blurry to a sleepy Finn, who's snuggling into his comfortable pillow at this point, dragging his cover above his head to block out the sun. It doesn't help that he was up until about three last night on his video games, and he'd had his appointment at ten, meaning that he'd had to wake up at an unreasonable hour. Hell, he'd even woken up before _Kurt_, and that's saying something.

When there's a knock on his door, he groans and rolls over in bed, peeking from beneath his cover.

"Finn, Santana an –"

Kurt yelps as he's thrown out of the way and the door opens and, surprise, surprise, Santana's hand is wrapped around the handle. He rolls his eyes, sitting himself up in bed to watch Puck enter after his other friend. Kurt, looking a little ruffled and pissed, shakes his head, glaring at the back of Santana's head for a split second before spinning on his heel, nose in air as he walks off.

"Where were you today?" Puck asks. "We were supposed to meet at Tana's house, but you didn't show."

Shit.

His eyes widen, snapping toward Santana who is glaring at him, lips tight and arms crossed across her chest, pushing up her breasts. He doesn't miss how Puck is trying to stare at them. "Yes, Finnessa? You stood us up, and I was left with this bumbling idiot in my room." She points to Puck, eyes narrowing when she catches the direction of his gaze. "You see something you like, Puckerman?"

"Hell yeah, woman!"

"Get up," she steps nearer to Finn, "I'd pull you up, but I don't want to get your loser germs."

"Please remind me why I'm friends with you Santana, if you just continue to call me a loser and make fun of me?"

She grins. "You love it really."

Finn sighs, "No, I don't. Why would anyone like that? I mean, if I did that to you, you'd be super pissed."

"Well," she begins confidently, "you wouldn't do that to me, 'cause you know that I'd open a can of whoopass on you." After this, she smirks at him, cocking her head. Puck, beside her, smirks too.

"I'd pay to see that."

"Shut up," Finn mumbles, untangling himself from his cover. He's used to this, his friends ganging up on him. When it's just one of them, it's not so bad, but together they can be a nightmare, and he has no idea why he's their "victim".

He notices Puck staring at his arm, and the thin bandage taped over where the needle had been. "Oh, I gave blood this morning," he tells them casually, reaching for his shoes. "Where are we going then?"

"Hold the phone," Santana begins, "you gave blood? What? _Why_?"

Finn stares up at her, shrugging. "To help someone."

"So you just showed up and gave your blood?" Something clicks in her mind. "Wait, did Hummel drag you there? He keeps nagging the glee club to do it."

"Nope."

"Then wh-"

"I went by myself. I'm a big boy, Sanny, I know how to get to the hospital."

She frowns, "That's not what I meant."

"Look, I'm not doing anything dangerous or stupid, I just gave blood. And like, it's really going to benefit someone. Now, can we just forget about this and go and do something else?" He inwardly groans, standing up and joining the two of them in the middle of his room. They nod simultaneously, and he notices Puck smiling in a really strange way, but brushes it off easily – he's probably just made a perverted joke is his head, and is now proceeding to laugh at himself.

They quickly leave the house, Finn hoping to forget that conversation. Besides, he has other thoughts on his mind, far more important things.

* * *

His eyes dart about the room nervously, heart thumping in his chest. How is he supposed to ask? He doesn't even know if it's allowed to meet her, but he's at least got to try, right? Because, if he – he just needs to, okay?

Tina finishes up, adding a small smile as she glances his way.

He clears his throat, conjuring the courage to speak, and finally finding the words, although they come out fragmented. "I…err – I was wondering if I…" He scratches the back of his head idly, as if the simple action will make it easier to ask. _Just get it out_, he wills himself when the next few words get caught in his throat.

"Yes?" she questions sweetly, eyes never leaving him.

"Well," Finn swallows, "I was thinking like, it'd be cool and stuff if I – if I could meet the girl that, you know, gets my blood and stuff." He notices her hesitate. "I totally understand if I can't 'cause like, it might be against the rule…those hospital rules…" he trails off, eyes dropping to the floor.

The silence that follows is scary, and he doesn't like it one bit.

But then.

"I-I could ask her, if you like."

"I'd like that." A smile tugs at his lips.

He breathes a sigh of relief. The worst part is over.

* * *

The worst part is definitely _not_ over.

He tugs at the suit that he shakily put on that morning, unsure of why the nerves have only just began to hit him, because this is just a normal girl who he's going to meet. Only, he's scared. What if he does or says the wrong thing, offends her in some way?

Because he's pretty sure that that's going to happen.

In his hand, he holds the letter that she'd sent him, the scented pink paper clutched tightly between his fingers. He glances down at the elegant writing, smiling at the purple ink that it's been written in.

_Dear Finn Hudson,_

_It would be wonderful to meet you! That way I can thank you in person for the wonderful sacrifice that you make in order to keep me here. Below I've written the visiting hours for my ward. Hope to see you soon!_

_Rachel Berry_

He smiles at the glittery gold star that she'd put after her name, adding even more color to the page. From this, she seems really cheerful and stuff, which is really a contrast to the girl that he'd seen at the hospital. Of course, there could have been a reason for that, he supposes. He finds it curious though, peering at the paper once more.

"Finn!" Kurt calls, "are you ready to go yet?" He sounds a little irritated – probably because he's missing a shopping day with Mercedes as Finn is practically _forcing_ him to go to the hospital. But like, he needs someone there so that he doesn't screw up, and Kurt is most likely to prevent him from doing that, whereas Santana or Puck would just watch him crash and burn, and it's be twice as worse if he took the two of them together.

"Coming," he responds, straightening out his tie once more and checking his appearance. He looks a little pale and sick, though it's really just the nerves taking over his body. He wants to meet her, he really does.

Grabbing the bouquet of flowers from the vase that he'd "borrowed" from his mom, he straightens out his suit once more, runs a hand through his combed hair and hurries downstairs. When he reaches the bottom step, he finds himself receiving the oddest stares from all of his family.

"Finn," Carole begins, taking in his appearance with a raised eyebrow, "you look lovely. Aren't you a little dressed up though?"

"Ma, I'm making an effort." He tries to hide behind the bouquet, which isn't the best idea because it's like super tiny compared to him, and his black suit completely contrasts with the pinks, yellows and whites of the flowers.

Kurt pulls a face. "You're wearing a _suit_ to the hospital? Really?"

He shifts uncomfortably in the suit now, feeling stuffy. "Look, can we just go there?" He points to the door with the bouquet, and it's like his family notices it for the first time. A smile creeps onto Carole's face, while Burt's mouth drops open, almost in realization, though curiosity sweeps over the rest of his features.

His brother just rolls his eyes, pulling open the door. "Let's go then."

It's a short drive to the hospital: ten, fifteen minutes. But, for Finn, it feels like the car arrives there merely seconds after the two of them setting off on their journey. He gulps, trying to calm him erratic breathing – why is he so nervous? He's met girls before. Hell, he's even been popular with a _lot_ of the girls, so this should be easy, right?

Kurt has to give her name in at reception, since the words get struck in his throat, almost choking him.

Room 407.

He kind of forgets how to read numbers for a few seconds, and everything seems a blur. He purses his lips together before they open once more and his tongue darts out from between them, licking over his dry lips.

A strong hand is soon on his arm, and he looks down to see Kurt's hand, pulling him with a strength that he had no idea his brother contained.

"Let's hurry up!" Kurt says. "No point in dilly dallying through the hallways when time is ticking! Let's meet your lady."

Finn jerks back. "My _what_?" Did Kurt just say what he thought he said? His eyes go wide in panic, and he glances around the hallways, hoping that no one had heard.

In response, Kurt smirks, "You're blushing."

Finn instantly shakes his head, pulling a face at the ridiculous comment. "Come on." He clutches the flowers more tightly than before, his grip almost breaking the stems of the delicate plants. He soon realizes and relaxes slightly.

They move down the corridor. 404, 405, 406.

The next door is right next to him, just the same as the others. He stares at it likes it isn't – like it's different.

He can feel Kurt's eyes on him as he does nothing but stand before the wooden door, gathering his courage. His shaky hand rubs at his face, running over his smooth chin – he'd made sure to shave again this morning, just so that he looks his best for Rachel.

"Are you going to go in or just admire the door?" Kurt questions.

"Right, I'm going."

And he reaches up his hand to knock, but it sort of freezes mid-air.

"Oh, _Finn_." Kurt groans, knocking himself.

There's a tense moment as they both wait, the silence of the corridor somehow stronger than any noise.

And then there's a soft, "_Come in_." God, her voice is so pretty.

His large hand curls around the door handle, and he slowly presses it down to allow himself into the room. Kurt is following him in – he can hear the click of his boot heels on the floor. Once inside, his eyes immediately falls to the bed, where she is lying, surrounded by crisp white sheets.

Against those sheets, her skin doesn't look as pale as the last time he'd seen her and, catching her smile, he finds it hard to concentrate on anything other than the pearly white affair that is her smile. She looks genuinely happy to see him, though he supposes that she mustn't get any visitors, or see many people.

"Hi," he manages, his voice higher than normal.

Her eyes flicker over his appearance, the suit and the flowers, and then widen. "Are those for me?"

Finn peers down at them, taking a step closer to the bed and trying not to trip over his own feet. "Err – yeah. They're – I got them for you so… here!" She sits further up in the bed, the sheets creasing around her and he notices how she tenses a little from her own movement, but then she takes the outstretched bouquet in her tiny, thin hands and brings it nearer to her. Closing her eyes, she smells the flowers with a serene smile on her face, features softening.

"They're beautiful," she now holds them close to her chest, biting her lips. "You really didn't need to."

"But I-I wanted to." He clears his throat, peering back at Kurt who is smiling at the pair.

Apparently happy with the fact that they've managed to begin a conversation, without Finn's word vomit, he points to the door. "I'll just be out here. I'll give you a few moments alone. I'm Kurt, by the way." He nods at Rachel, a smile gracing his lips.

"It's nice to meet you," she says back politely, brushing some hair behind her ear. They both watch as he leaves, and then they look toward each other at the same time, eyes locking. He opens his mouth to speak, but what does he say now? He's given her the flowers – what now?

Thankfully, she comes to his rescue. "You know," she grins, "I really didn't expect you to come in a suit."

"Yeah… I was making an effort, right? I mean, I wanted to make a good impression."

"As if you needed that!" she exclaims, "Finn, you donated your blood to me. I like you already!"

"You like me?"

Her cheeks turn red in color, contrasting with her pale skin. "Well, you know. You're such a generous person. I can never thank you enough." Her eyes become serious, staring into his and holding him in a trance. They're so big and wide, and he can't tear himself away from them. She blinks, and so does he, shaking his head lightly.

"Aw, that's okay."

Her mouth falls open, "You don't need to be so humble about it!" Her hand finds his arm, squeezing it tightly. "You helped to keep me alive. Finn, don't you see how amazing that is?" She'd managed to pull him down onto the bed so that they are at the same level, or as close to it as they could get (this girl is tiny) and he once again loses himself in her gaze.

"Totally," he agrees dopily, a smile sweeping across his face.

Rachel giggles. "To be honest, Finn, I was surprised when Tina said that you wanted to meet me. I still don't understand why you felt the need."

His eyebrows knit together, "I don't even know myself. It's like… like I just had to. There was something in the back of my mind telling me to and I shouldn't ignore myself. That's rude, you know?"

The sound of her laugh, all high and girly, spreads a grin onto Finn's face. "Well, I'm glad that you listened." She looks so pretty right now, her hair wavy, curling at the tips and falling perfectly around her face and really, that smile just completes everything – he could stare at it all day.

"Me too," he says, subconsciously leaning closer to the brunette, who seems to be doing the same thing. He quickly realizes, jerking back with slightly widened eyes. He is getting carried away with himself, thinking things that he shouldn't. Things like kissing her, and spending more time with her, and kissing her some more. But, like, she's not going to be interested in someone like him – she has more important things to worry about that dating someone, especially dating _him_.

He quickly speaks, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction. "And it doesn't hurt or anything… when they take my blood, that is. The first time I felt sick and stuff, but now I only feel a little dizzy."

Rachel nods in understanding, "Oh, I know. I cried the first time that they took my blood." At this, Finn pouts, the image of tears streaming down her cheeks causing sadness to flood through his body.

"That sucks."

She shrugs, "Yeah, but I've got used to it now."

And then he can't stop himself. Not only does he want to know, but he needs to, and the words fly from his mouth before he can stop himself. "So, why're you in here?" Her gaze suddenly meets the sheets, which she idly plays with. "You don't have to tell me… I'm just curious."

She draws in a deep breath, her chest heaving out and back in again, the sound amplified by how quiet the room had become. "I- I don't usually talk about it. My dads basically avoid the whole thing, and then there's only Blaine bu – "

"Blaine?"

"My best friend," she smiles, instantly continuing as if she doesn't notice the slightly sour look that had grown on his face, "but with other people, not that I _meet_ any other people for starters, it's just a little strange."

"You don't have to," he repeats, because she really doesn't. It's her choice, and he's not going to force her into anything just because he wants to know.

"No," she shakes her head, her head shooting back up, "I'll tell you." Her voice is almost shy, though he feels like she's not normally like that. Is that weird? He hardly knows anything about her, and he's already making assumptions about her personality.

She shuffles closer again, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, and he ignores the heat that rises to his cheeks as her thigh is flush against hers.

"I have leukemia," she tells him.

His breath hitches, throat closing up. Leukemia…that freakin' sucks. He can't even imagine what she must be going through, how it must feel.

"You don't need to tell me that you're sorry, or that everything will work out, because I honestly don't want to hear it." Her voice sounds on the edge of cracking, tears visible in hers eyes.

"I wasn't going to –"

"Everyone does," she replies, completely sure of herself. The reactions are always the same. "And please don't look at me like that." Her head slowly turns to meet him, "I hate people looking at me like that."

"Well, how I am supposed to look at you?" He bugs out his eyes, "Like this?" He then squints them together, "or this?"

In an instant, her stony expression is forgotten and she bursts out in a fit of giggles, hand flying to cover her mouth. He beams down at her, the girl who can't control her laughter. She falls against him, her head lulling back as she laughs further.

"You're funny, Finn."

"I try," he chuckles.

She smiles, staring up at him through her dark lashes before looking down at the flowers that are now on her lap. "They really are beautiful." Her fingers stroke one of the soft petals delicately.

"It's nothing," he says, "from one friend to another."

"_Friend_?"

"Of course."

* * *

Kurt smiles as he sees Finn move closer to Rachel again, and then he says something about leaving, giving them some alone time. He is still a little worried that Finn might slip up, but Rachel doesn't look like she'll be easily offended, if the smile that she's giving Finn is anything to go by.

He's happy to see Finn like this, even if the flowers that he'd picked didn't go together at all and his suit was from what, two years ago. He's still making an effort, especially for a girl who he barely knows, something which is still intriguing him.

He heads toward the bathroom, needing to find a mirror to check that his hair is still in place, when he turns the corner and collides into someone. "Whoa, hey, sorry. I was sort of in a rush," he smiles at the curly-haired boy, clad in his red dressing gown and blue, striped pajamas.

He tries to say something back, his mouth opening, but instead a strangled sound comes out of it and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he passes out, falling to the floor in a heap before Kurt.

Kurt stares, wide eyed. Is this really happening?

He knees to the floor, turning the boy over. Oh damn, what is he supposed to do now?

"Help!" he calls out, "anybody!"

It takes barely a few seconds for a couple of nurses to get there, checking for his breathing while Kurt watches with blurred vision, almost like everything is in slow motion. Everything except for the beat of his heart, that is, because he feels like it's about to thump out of his chest.

He finds himself following them back to his room – he needs to know that he's going to be okay. He's scared for this boy that he literally just ran into.

Watching from the doorframe, Kurt tries to calm himself as the guy is placed on the bed. He's injected with something, not that Kurt would know, and now his features are peaceful as he lays there.

"Are you family?" someone asks behind him, a nurse with a soft smile.

He freezes: they'll probably kick him out if they realize that he isn't family.

"I…err," The words normally flow to him easily, but for once in his eighteen years he finds himself utterly speechless. "I'm just a friend," he lies.

"Well, Blaine won't be having any visitors for the day, so if you could come back tomorrow…"

"I will," he nods, "I will."

He slowly begins to walk away, his limbs still feeling fuzzy, like this isn't real. _Blaine_, he thinks. That's his name. He manages a peek through the door, staring at him once again, now resting in sleep.

Maybe he will come back.

* * *

Finn decides that he loves the sound of her laugh, and he loves making her laugh too. Like, it's just so pretty, like a little song and he'd do anything to hear it, including making an idiot out of himself, which is why he's telling her old, embarrassing stories about growing up with Puck and Santana.

He's just told her about the time when they stole his clothes at the pool and he'd had to run home naked, behind a big inflatable duck.

She holds onto her sides tightly, her face scrunched up as she laughs heartily at his tale. Deep breaths can be heard from her, Rachel trying to control the laughter and her breathing. Eventually, she calms, the occasional giggle spilling out.

The door opens, and in walks Tina. "Visiting times are over," she tells them, watching as Rachel casts a sad look in Finn's direction, her bottom lip poking out. "Rachel, you need to stay in bed," she says, gesturing to the girl who is sitting on the edge, the sheets no longer covering her. "Come on, doctor's order."

With a small grumble, she begins to climb beneath the sheets again, as Finn stands up. "It was awesome finally getting to meet you."

She smiles as she smoothes out the sheets. "And you too, Finn." She looks at the flowers, "Will you visit me again sometime?"

And he totally feels like he's on cloud nine. "Sure. I-I'd love to!" Maybe he sounds a little too eager, but he doesn't care because this means that she _likes_ him, and that's good because he likes her too. Mutual liking is always good. Before he leaves to find Kurt, he sends her a bright smile, something which she quickly returns.

His heart is beating very fast as he leaves the room.

* * *

She walks slowly to Blaine's room today, still thinking about Finn's visit, and the connection that she'd instantly felt with him. She's drawn to him in a way that she can't explain and it's completely flattering that he wore a suit and even bought her flowers. Just the thought of Finn in his suit causes her to blush a hot pink, and she ducks her head so that nobody can see.

Entering Blaine's room, she puts on a huge smile, which soon drops when she sees him lay in bed, looking weaker and more tired than usual. "Blaine?" she questions, her forehead creasing and stomach flipping uneasily at the sight of him.

His eyes slowly open, "Rachel." Giving a tiny smile, he pats a space on his bed. She's there in an instant, her hand holding his – they do this a lot. She considers him to be one of her best friends, and probably always will.

"What's wrong?" she pouts, squeezing his hand gently.

Blaine frowns, unwilling to give away the story, and not wanting to worry her.

"Blaine," she pushes with a stern voice.

"Okay, okay," he sighs, "I passed out."

"You passed out," she repeats. "Was it your heart again?"

He nods. "They think so." Blaine, as usual, quickly changes the subject to something else, not wanting to talk about his problem. "So, did you meet him?" he teases, "your _Finn Hudson_."

She rolls her eyes. "He's not my anything. Just… just – oh, who am I kidding? Blaine, he's amazing. He brought me flowers an –"

"_Flowers_?"

"Yes!" she nods excitedly, "and he wore this really expensive looking suit, and he'd combed his hair." She falls back onto his bed dramatically, "Blaine, he was _so_ sweet. He said that he'd visit me again." Her smile is impossibly wide and Blaine looks at her fondly.

"So you like him then?"

"Like him?" she questions, "of course I do. He – wait, not like _that_." She catches his gaze, his raised eyebrow, "It''s not that he isn't good looking. On the contrary, he's extremely handsome. Just…I've only _just_ met him."

"There's still time."

She smiles toward her friend – he's always been like this, high hope for romance, an abundance of love stories stocked away in his mind. He's smiling back at her too, face soft and eyes shining.

* * *

Kurt doesn't know how to do this. Does he just go in and introduce himself or would that be too forward? He doesn't even know this guy and yet he wants to see him once more.

That's why he's waiting outside his hospital room, pacing the floor nervously and trying to stay calm. Now he knows how Finn felt.

"You can do this, Kurt Hummel," he tells himself. "Confidence and a big smile, that's all you need."

He forces on the big smile. Good, that's half of it. And for the confidence… he knows how to work that, as long as this Blaine doesn't leave him completely speechless.

Summoning the courage, he knocks on the door and steps inside. "Hi," he says.

"_You_."

Blaine is on the bed, in some light blue pajamas and a book in his hand. His eyes widen at the sight of Kurt, mouth falling open. "It's you."

"I didn't know that I was famous," Kurt jokes lightly.

"I remember you."

His heart skips a beat, "You do?"

The conversation flows easily, from Blaine remembering Kurt's face as the last thing he'd seen before he collapsed to the more casual talk of how the day had been. Kurt was right – he made the right choice by coming back.

* * *

He slowly walks through the corridors, the bandage on his arm irritating his skin a little, but it's not really too noticeable.

He's supposed to be heading home now. In fact, he should have called Kurt already, but all he can think about is seeing Rachel again and apparently that's where his feet are leading him to, their journey completely unstoppable, not that he minds.

On the contrary, he's quite happy about it.

The door to her room doesn't seem as intimidating as the last time he'd arrived, even now that he stands alone, no Kurt to knock for him. Thankfully, it's during visitor hours, and he isn't going to get in trouble for just randomly being there…

He has the courage to knock himself today, blinking a couple of times before he opens the door. She must have been sleeping because her hair is matted to her head, and there are pillow marks on her face. "Finn," she calls out in surprise, "what're you doing here? Have you told someone? I – l –"

"Tina knows that I'm here," he points outside to the nurses' station where Tina is sitting, before closing the door and moving over to her bed. She sits up, brushing her hands through her hair and trying to improve her dishevelled appearance, not that Finn thinks it needs improving at all. "She's pretty awesome, huh?"

"She's great," she smiles, "a really good friend." She tilts her head in his direction. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

He nods, the slight movement feeling strange. "I just… err, I just gave some more blood."

"Oh!" she says, her eyes widening, "Finn, you need to sit down!"

"That's okay. I feel fine."

She pulls a stern face, pointing to the bed, despite there being a seat right beside her bed. "Down. Now."

He can't deny her, can he?

But, as soon as he's sat down, she practically drags him into a lying position, his head against her pillow. "What're you doing?" he questions in shock, staring at her like she's crazy, practically manhandling him.

Rather than be embarrassed by her forward actions, she raises an eyebrow at him. "What? You need rest. I've had blood taken before, and I always have to lie down afterwards. You weren't going to _drive_ home, were you?"

He smiles up at her, shaking his head, an answer which she feels satisfied with.

"You're bossy, do you know that?"

She gasps, "I am _not_. Take that back!"

"See?" He grins at Rachel having just proved his point. She rolls her eyes, though she can't hide the smile on her lips.

"Oh, shut up."

"Really? More bossing me around?" he chuckles.

He shifts on the bed, pressing his face further into the large pillow. He kind of feels bad for taking up so much space, but then again Rachel is tiny and wasn't taking up much anyway, and he's scared of what she'll do if he tries to sit back up again.

"I just want you to be okay," she mumbles, thinking that it's too quiet for him to hear, but he does hear it. And his cheeks tint pink before he can stop them.

Rachel isn't looking at him though; she's staring off straight ahead of her, features relaxed and thoughtful. He yawns out loud, and her head snaps in his direction. "I knew that you'd be tired." Her smug look is actually the cutest thing that he's ever seen.

"Okay, okay, you win. This time."

"This time?" she folds her arms neatly across her chest, "I'll have you know that my winning rate is currently an impressive one hundred perfect, and you can do nothing to change that."

"Oh yeah?" he grins.

Her face scrunches up with the thought of losing. "Yes!" she says quickly.

"We'll see about that."

She looks taken back, her mouth falling open. It's easy to tell what she's thinking, she's like an open book at that moment, and Finn really likes that. But the smile springs back onto her face and she shoves him gently. "You just go to sleep."

He frowns. "Sleep?"

"You'll feel better," she assures him. "Trust me."

"But this is _your_ bed," he starts to get up, "I can't sleep on here. _You_ should be the one resting. You're –"

He cuts himself short, noticing her expression. In the short time that he's known her, he's realized that she hates people treating her different because of her condition. "I'll sleep," he changes, "but only if you sleep too. I woke you up before."

With a sigh, she begins to shake her head, "I'm not tired."

"_Rach_."

"Okay, fine. I'll sleep."

She pushes herself down the bed, and tries to get comfortable, wincing slightly and holding her side.

"Are you alright?" he questions, his heart almost skipping a beat.

Rachel forces a smile onto her face, "It's fine." Her eyes sweep closed and then he realizes how close he is to her. He can hear her breathing, the soft, slow rhythm as she inhales and exhales, some of her warm breathe hitting his face. He gulps.

She falls asleep quickly, her fingers dropping limply against his hand, but Finn can't sleep. He's tired, man is he tired, yet he can't seem to do it. It's just that she's so close, and he's never been this close to girl other than his mom and Santana. Sure, other girls kind of oogle at him in the hallway and ask for his number, but he never really lets it amount to anything.

How in the world is he supposed to sleep right now?

So he just doesn't…

He finds himself watching her, totally ignoring that it's probably a little creepy. She's beautiful, she really is. Everything about her, from those plump pink lips to her slightly large, but unique nose. Her eyelashes are long, brushing against her cheeks.

Finn smiles.

He stays there until Tina tells him that he has to leave.

* * *

Finn visits her a couple of times after that too, 'cause she's actually pretty awesome and she's really great to talk to. She doesn't get to talk to people much, she tells him, so seeing him brightens her day.

He likes to listen to her talk.

It seems like she could go on and on forever, probably about the same topic too. She just has so much to say about everything, and kind of dumps all of her thoughts on him, not that he minds.

And they really talk about _anything_. She went from talking about _Johnny Depp_ films to informing him of her long line of work for PETA. In like, two minutes. It was impressive.

She gives him her cell phone number and he calls her sometimes, and then some more. He just wants to talk to her, enjoys the sound of her voice, and they just become friends so easily, like they were always supposed to be friends.

He likes it.

* * *

"Blaine?" he calls through shyly, peeping around the edge of the door. "Can I come in?"

Upon hearing his name, Blaine glances over the magazine that he was engrossed in and smiles at the sight of Kurt there. "Hey! Kurt, how're you?"

He practically skips into the room, "Wonderful. I hope you don't mind me coming early?"

"Not at all. I get to spend more time with you now." With a smile, he pats the side of the bed invitingly for Kurt before moving his curls out of his face. His hair has grown a lot in the time that he's been here, and he really needs a haircut, or some gel. Just anything to tame this mess.

Kurt chuckles beside him, observing his every move and then raising his eyebrow.

"It's annoying me," he mumbles, adding a tiny little pout. Kurt thinks that he looks adorable.

"Here, let me help." He ignores Blaine's protests and reaches into his bag to pull out a small bottle of gel. He keeps it for emergencies, though has rarely ever used this particular packet, and now Blaine can take advantage of that. As cute as his little locks are, they are really long and kind of distracting. He takes a pea sized amount of the gel on his hands. He beckons Blaine, curling his finger slowly and Blaine leans forward tentatively.

His hands run through Blaine's thick hair, spreading the gel around carefully, his eyes concentrating hard.

Blaine smiles at the gentle feeling of the motion. It feels nice, and Kurt has these really soft hands and they just kind of _know_ exactly what to do.

He notices the tip of Kurt's tongue poking out of his lips, those luscious looking lips. Oh God, now he can't stop staring at them…

Averting his gaze, he stares down at his hands, suddenly finding them extremely interesting. Kurt is practically leaning over him, still styling his hair, and he really needs to stop his heart from beating so fast or something bad is going to happen.

"There!" he announces happily, "you're very welcome, Blaine Anderson." He judges his work proudly. "For a minute job, it looks wonderful!"

* * *

"…and I think that they like each other, you know? But they're both too damn stubborn to admit it. I mean, they definitely are physically attracted to each other. The amount of times that I've had to listen to Puck drone on about her boobs is kind of ridiculous…" Finn explains, though he's mostly talking to himself. Kurt never lets him discuss his friends, since he's not too fond of Puck or Santana, but Rachel seems genuinely interested.

She nods her head along eagerly to his words, eyes wide and mouth open, as if ready to offer her advice at any time. She's a really good listener. She like, doesn't judge him or anything, and she makes him feel really comfortable with her. He likes it.

Even though she hasn't met his friends, she still listens, she makes an effort.

But yeah, maybe he should talk about something that they can both enjoy. He sighs, "You must be getting bored hearing me go on and on about my friends…" He looks sheepish.

"No, not at all," she smiles. "I actually quite enjoyed it. You looked happy."

"Really?" his eyebrow rises in suspicion, because she's probably just lying to him to make it look better.

She just nods, "Oh, of course Finn!" A small blush suddenly creeps across her skin for a second, her gaze dropping to the floor. She changes the subject quickly. "How's school going?" He finds it a bit strange that she's asking about school of all things, but her smile is so big and he can't not reply to her.

"Good, I guess. Math is kind of a killer though. I just suck at it. And, if I don't do well in math, then my chances of getting a scholarship are pretty low."

"You want a scholarship?" she looks surprised. Crap, that's not good. Does she think that he's dumb or something?

Finn idly rubs the back of his head, staring straight ahead, "Yeah, I mean…Coach says I'm pretty good at football, and my brother made me join glee club. He thinks that I'm good."

The excitement that radiates from her is overwhelming. "Glee club!" She clasps her hands together tightly, her smile so big that he's positive it's hurting her cheeks. "You can sing? Why didn't you say so before?"

His face scrunches up in confusion, "…should I have…?"

Totally not the right thing to say.

Rachel huffs, folding her arms neatly across her chest. "Well, it would have been helpful. Of course, you're a wonderful and lovely young man on your own, but now I know that we share the passion of music, I can't help feeling a special bond forming between the two of us." She finishes with a brilliant smile, and he notices that her hand is on his arm. That happens a lot, like she doesn't realize that she's holding him. It's a totally subconscious thing, but yeah, he likes it.

And like, all of her words were a blur, other than 'passion' and 'special bond', and he guesses that they're good things, so he just nods too. "Yeah, awesome."

He never really thought about singing as a passion – to be honest he doesn't really think of much as a passion, or anything for that matter. He just knows what he's good at and what he isn't. He's okay at singing – but not a star or anything, but Rachel is looking at his with those wide, excited eyes and, for a second, he kind of feels like that.

It's a little weird, he thinks, but also kind of cute. She does that a lot – falls in awe of things about him. Normal things too, which leaves him even more curious.

"I don't get out much," she'd once joked, though he hadn't seen the way that her face had fell. It really sucks that she's stuck here all the time, looking at the same faces day in day out. He can just get up and leave whenever, do whatever he wants at any point, but she can't. Rachel is almost a prisoner to her own condition.

She has good days and bad days, though he hasn't seen her through any bad days just yet and quite frankly it scares him, the thought of seeing her even more vulnerable than she already appears.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he finds her staring at him, head tilted to the side, an amused look on her face. "Er…" he clears his throat, "so…singing! Do you like singing?"

And he knows that he's said something right when she grins and bounces a little where she's sat, bursting with excitement. "Singing is my life." Her face suddenly slips. "Well, it _was_."

Rachel feels her whole body slump, as do her emotions, and her heart. She doesn't sing anymore, she doesn't even remember the last time she'd done so, happily copying her most admired singers. Patti, Barbra, Celine… Singing was something that brought her joy, let her escape her reality. But her dream had been to be on Broadway, to be someone, a _star. _A star who shines so bright that nothing else can be seen in their presence.

She feels Finn's eyes on her, burning into her skin. He probably has dreams, dreams for his future, and he'll probably achieve them too – he's happy, in good health. Why not? The smile is now completely gone from her face, and she's pale as she considers how she's lost her dream. Her dads still remain hopeful, they constantly tell her that one day they'll be "watching their little girl perform her heart out", but they won't. She knows that they won't.

No one will.

"Rach?" he sends her a questioning look, a tiny smile placed on his lips, like it's trying to radiate some form of happiness to her, just to stop her from looking so empty. "You okay?"

"No," she says bluntly, the word forced out. "No, I'm not."

Worry is etched onto his face, and she hates that it's _her_ that caused it – she doesn't want to do that to him _at all._

"Was it something I said?"

She can't take her eyes off of him. His innocent face is staring back, eyes intense. His fingers brush against her hand, almost taking hold of it, _almost_. Finn's never been as forward as her, not that it's a bad thing: his hesitance is actually rather endearing.

"I just… I can't remember the last time that I sang…"

It sounds ridiculous, her statement, and so, she's not affected when Finn's eyebrows swoop together, forehead creased with fine lines. "What?" He laughs, he shouldn't be laughing, but the sound escapes his mouth easily, filling the silence that follows.

Rachel looks kind of scary right now. Like, really pale and almost shaky, and he wants nothing more than to hold her in his arms and scare away all of her demons. But all he can manage to do is to encase her soft hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Come on," he tries again, "you can tell me." _Trust me_, he's almost begging.

She can definitely be dramatic at times, but this is odd. He's never seen her like this before, and it's setting his caring mode on an all-time high. Though the smallest smiles, she speaks. "When I grew up, I wanted nothing more than to be a performer. The only thing I ever talked about, much to the annoyance of my peers, was Broadway, and singing. I was so sure of it, Finn. I'd watch _The Way We Were_ or _Funny Girl _and –"

"I don't know what they are."

"And I knew that that was my calling," she continues, regardless of his interruption. She doesn't look at him now, her eyes closed as she talks, focusing on the words. "I was going to be amazing. I'd fantasize about people, young girls who would look up to me, wanting my autograph, photographers fighting to get the best picture of me. My name in lights." Her eyes open at this point, brighter than any light he could imagine, and then she sighs, "But that was just childish thinking. That's never going to happen now."

"Why isn't it going to happen?" He frowns. Rachel is one of the few people that he knows who is determined enough to succeed in such a difficult career, and he knows that she'd be perfect. Every note, every line – she'd nail it. All of this and he's never even heard her sing, seen her acting, but he just knows. He'd be willing to bet on it right there and then.

She looks sad, like a sad, lost puppy. It hurts him to see her like this. "Because," she says quietly, "how can I do that when I'm not alive?"

It hits him harder than he could ever imagine. "W-what?" he chokes out. Did she really just say that? He tries to imagine a world without her and it feels _wrong_.

Her eyes catch his in a piercing gaze, causing goosebumps to rise on his arm. "You really don't think that I'm going to survive this, do you?"

And like, she's talking about it so causally, and it's leaving him pretty speechless. She's talking about death, _her_ death, as if it's nothing, as if no one will care. But he does, he cares. "Rach, I –"

"I stopped trying to convince myself months ago." There she goes again, not being able to look him in the eye, "it's easier that way. If only my fathers had the same intentions, but I know that they're grasping onto hope."

He wants to stop listening, for her words to disappear, but they don't. They swirl around his head, getting louder and louder.

She thinks that she's going to die.

No, no, _worse_. She's okay with it. She's okay with dying.

"Rach," her name is strained on his lips – he doesn't want to have this conversation, _ever_. It's too late.

"What?" she sounds upset, like when someone is suppressing their cries. Maybe she does care after all, but she's hiding it. "I've been in here for months, Finn. In and out of hospital. But now I can't leave. I'm never going to leave this place…" her eyes flutter closed, "alive."

"You don't know that!" His voice is so full of pain that he hates hearing it himself, and she winces, eyes watering.

"Finn, it's okay, I –"

He shakes his head, "It's not okay! How can you say that this is okay?"

"You haven't been dealing with it as long as I have," she raises her voice. "I've had so long to accept this."

His face drops into his hand. He _can't_ look at her, not when she's saying things like that. Her hand grasps onto his more firmly now, and her other cups his chin, tilting it upwards. "Look at me," she says, "I've been through all the crying and hurting – I know that my time is going to be over soon. I can feel it, Finn." He tries to move again, so that he doesn't have to look at her face, "and when it happens you have to stay strong." She stumbles over the words, "And you should forget me."

He squeezes his eyes closed. That…he…no, he can't. "Rach, please." He begs, he needs her to be positive like him, to convince herself that she's going to be okay. She will be.

Finn's hands holds onto hers – he's scared to let them go, to let her slip away from him. He holds on tighter.

But Rachel's crying, and he doesn't know how to handle crying girls. He never has. They've only been friends for just over a month. People aren't supposed to get that close so quickly, are they? Things like that only happen in the movies and yet, here they are, the thought of Rachel not being in his life making him feel physically sick.

"You're gonna be just fine," he whispers,

He feels her breath hit him, they're so close. He wants to be like this forever, just the two of them without the pain that reality brings, but that's not going to happen.

Rachel wipes away her tears and stares at him with her large, puffy eyes and he feels sick again. He'd do anything to wipe that look off his face, _anything_.

"You can expect me to just sit around and watch you…you…"

He'd said it. Well, almost. He'd almost admitted that she was going to… Damn, he can't even think it, how is he supposed to witness it?

"I don't expect anything from you, except to carry on living your life to the fullest, no matter what happens," she manages a smile. "You have your whole future ahead of you, Finn." Her fingers now caress his face, eyes adoring. "Can you promise me that?"

"I can't –"

"Yes, you can," she says.

But Finn knows that he can't, and he certainly doesn't want to either. Because then that's like accepting it and he isn't ready.

She isn't going to take no for an answer though. He knows Rachel, she's stubborn and at times bossy, of course she's not going to let him deny her this. Her gaze doesn't move from him, eyes still leaking tears. "I – I promise."

She nods. "Thank you, Finn." Rachel searches his face before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, a small smile gracing her full lips. He tries to keep that feeling with him, how amazing the brief contact felt.

A second later she's asleep, the feeling lost with it.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**Please review :)**


	2. An act of love

**The second part :) Sorry that it took so long to post - I'm on holiday and managed to find an internet cafe.**

**Thanks to _Gillian Deverone_ for beta'ing, as usual**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He can't sleep.

There are too many thoughts whizzing around his head and he can barely keep his eyes closed for a few seconds.

He remembers seeing her today, their conversation on repeat, like a broken record. Finn doesn't want to listen to it again, but it's all that he can think about. He can't escape it. She's his friend and he cares about here. Well, he'd like her to be more than his friend…but he doesn't really know how to tell her that…

Finn thinks about it a lot, asking her that very question. But he just… he can't work up the courage to do it.

He doesn't know how to ask a girl out, especially not Rachel. And especially not after today. She has other things to worry about, more important things than him.

This doesn't mean that he can't be a friend to her, the best friend that she'll ever have. She deserves that.

* * *

Rachel doesn't ever remember being in so much pain, slipping into between sleep and consciousness. She doesn't know whether it's day or night, nor is she aware of the people around her. She thinks that Doctor Smythe is there sometimes, but then others she is able to tell anything.

Moving hurts. Even breathing hurts.

She wants to cry, as if letting the tears escape would rid her of the assault on her body. Only, it is her body that's doing this. It's attacking itself, and she can't bare it.

She clutches to her sides, teeth clenched and head thrashing back and forth.

What did she ever do to deserve this?

Maybe she's been a little cocky in her youth, and she's had her selfish moments, but why is she being punished in such a way?

She thinks that she sees Finn – it's someone of his stature and height, and they look very Finn-ish. But then they're gone, and she feels a prick in her arm.

And suddenly the pain flows out of her as she begins to lull into subconscious once more.

* * *

He visits her a couple of days later. He sits by her bed, takes her hand in his. She isn't sleeping – she just doesn't really have the energy to do much, and he totally gets that. Anyway, he's happy just being company for her.

Rachel smiles when his thumb brushes over his knuckles softly, massaging the skin. He'd always thought that he'd had clumsy hands, and had nearly fell out his chair when Rachel had called them 'gentle' one time. He's always careful around her though, like she's going to break at any second – she's like a delicate ornament, one that you take the uttermost care with, and always, _always_ love above the others.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitates, like she doesn't know what to say to him. His fingers clamp tighter around hers, though not too tights – he doesn't want to hurt her. "Okay," Rachel says. He prefers it this way, Finn thinks, when she doesn't lie to him. Sometimes that can feel worse than like, hearing the truth and stuff. He just, he needs to know exactly how she's feeling, and if there's anything that he can do to help her. He just wants to help.

"I know."

Oh, apparently he'd said that out loud.

"I care about you," Finn admits, the words falling from his lips easily, naturally, as if he's said them a thousand times. Rachel's smile brightens, eyes shining with happiness.

"Thank you."

"No, thank you."

Her eyebrows knit together, wondering what in the world he could be thanking _her_ for.

He kisses her.

Actions speak louder than words, after all, and this simple action yells his affections to the moon and back. He wants her to know just how he feels about her, that he's here and he's not leaving. His feelings are rooted deep within his body, like it's always been there but is only not choosing to flow out of his every pore, radiating to Rachel and around the room.

It's a little awkward, 'cause like she's lying down and he's not, and it's like trying to kiss _Snow White_ or _Sleeping Beauty,_ although Rachel is prettier than any Disney princess, and her lips are softer too.

And, when he pulls away, she has this really big smile on her face, bigger than he's ever seen. It's like someone has just granted all of her wishes at once.

"What was that for?" Her eyes suddenly because unsure. He's confused – isn't she supposed to be happy? He sure is.

"I just…I'm not really good with words," he says, "so I thought I'd show you instead, so that I don't mess anything up, although I probably…messed it up, didn't I?"

Those sparkling eyes fixate on him, and him only, her teeth gently tugging at her lower lip. "You can show me again if you like." Her voice is a whisper and it's almost teasing; she thinks that it's adorable how nervous he is.

She slowly sits up, holding herself steady against the bed and staring at him expectantly. Oh yeah, he almost forgot. His hands move to cup her face, delicately brushing against her soft, warm skin. He draws her face closer to his, so close that he can feel her shaky breath on his lips. Eyes meet, lock and become lost in each other as he presses his lips onto hers once more, the exciting feeling shooting through his body yet again.

He'd happily do this forever.

* * *

Chemotherpy.

Rachel sits in her room, completely silent. Her fathers are there, watching over her with worried eyes though remaining just as quiet as her. She feels sick, her throat dry – she shouldn't feel like this. She's getting better. Well, cancer-wise. Her kidneys are still…bad, but that doesn't deter from the fact that she could rid herself of the cancer.

Only, she has to go through chemotherapy, and she's scared, more than scared. Her inside swirl uneasily.

She grasps onto her daddy's hand, wanting him to protect her and fix everything.

But it doesn't work that way.

* * *

"I just…" she says, "I don't know what to do. I'm so scared." She hates admitting it, not only to herself, but to Finn of all people, watching as his face falls at the news that she's scared. No, not scared, she's _terrified_.

"But you said that you want to get better. You told me that you do." He frowns, fingers playing with the tips of her soft hair. "Isn't this all part of it?"

It's hard to hear her, with her face pressed against his shirt, body curled around him as though trying to get as much contact as possible. Her own hands grip him tightly, and he holds her closer, resisting the urge to kiss her forehead, to whisper sweet, soothing words into her ear.

"I'm going to get even weaker," she says, "chemotherapy is just…" No more words come, but she doesn't need to say them. He knows.

Finn rubs her back, hand gliding over the material of her thin hospital gown. She shivers in his arms, whether from the cold or from fear, he doesn't know.

He's scared _for_ her. Like, he feels everything that she feels. The worry, the doubts, but there's still hope, hiding somewhere in a tiny beacon, veiled behind all the bad stuff. He wonders whether, when you get so close to someone, it's normal to feel what they feel. One look into her wide eyes, and he's hit with it all, her emotions come at him without mercy.

And like, most guys would freak out, they would. They'd get too scared because things are moving so fast, and the level of commitment that Finn feels to Rachel is more than some guys can handle. He likes it, more than likes. And Puck'd totally beat his ass for saying this, but he actually enjoys being with Rachel like this, being the person that she knows she can depend on, a shoulder to cry on.

Speaking of crying, he peers down at her sad face, watching as a tear trickles down her cheek, but his thumb catches it before it can fall down to the bed. He brushes away the salty tear, thumb gliding delicately across her cheek.

He doesn't tell her that he's scared too, because the guy is supposed to be the strong one, not the one who worries and frets.

Rachel's just so tiny.

She says that she's getting better, or she will after the chemotherapy. The cancer will be gone, hopefully for good.

But then there's a whole host of other problems, like she still needs a new kidney and not to mention that she could get ill again after the chemotherapy. Doesn't it like kill everything, not just the cancer cells?

He looks to her, so thin, like a tiny breath of wind could knock her over.

And then he thinks about what he'd do if she got ill again, if she picked up another disease in her vulnerable state. What would that do to Rachel? Would it finally break her?

Finn immediately shakes his head – he should think about something else, something more positive.

His hand slides down her arm where it reaches her own hand, trembling against the bed sheets. He takes hold of it, gripping it firmly, trying to reassure her – he's going to be there, and he's going to hold her when she's sad, and laugh with her when she's happy. He's not going anywhere…

* * *

"Knock, knock." Kurt chuckles to himself as he enters the room, offering Blaine a smile as he enters the room. He sees the boy, sitting cross-legged on the bed, though he turns to him with curious eyes when he notices that Kurt is carrying something.

"Is that… a guitar?"

"How did you know?" he grins, looking down to the obvious guitar case before placing it on the bed. "I thought," he begins, "that we could have a little fun. And you mentioned that you could play the guitar." Kurt bites his bottom lip, "So maybe you'd like to show me." He smiles at the memory of their last conversation, how happy Blaine had been to explain his love of music. Singing, playing instruments, and even writing his own songs.

Of course, Kurt had been delighted to hear this. They have something in common, something to bond over, and the thought of spending more time with Blaine sets his heart off racing and the tiniest of blushes to his face.

He peers at Blaine, feeling oddly giddy from just being in his presence.

"You wanna give it a go?" he gestures toward the guitar, adding an encouraging smile.

Blaine looks like a kid at Christmas as he unwraps the instrument from its casing, completely in awe of it. Kurt thinks that it's the most adorable thing he's ever seen. He places himself on the edge of the bed too, never letting his eyes leave Blaine and his excited face. "So," he smiles, "what song do you want to sing?"

His face is thoughtful, soft. It looks angelic to Kurt. And then suddenly a grin creeps onto his lips and he says, "I have a song just…don't laugh."

At this, he finds himself laughing, "What? I'm not going to laugh at you, silly."

Blaine gives out this tiny little huff, like he doesn't believe him, but then proceeds to place the guitar in his arms, smiling at the familiar feel of it. His fingers hover over the cold wood of the instrument, reaching for the strings and experimenting with a few notes. With one final glance toward Kurt, he begins, and Kurt finds himself grinning at his friend, mostly at his song choice.

_Look at this stuff__  
__Isn't it neat?__  
__Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?__  
__Wouldn't you think I'm the guy__  
__The girl who has everything?__  
__Look at this trove__  
__Treasures untold__  
__How many wonders can one cavern hold?__  
__Looking around here you think__  
__Sure, he's got everything_

He chuckles at Blaine changing the lyrics to suit a guy, while at the same time swooning over the beautiful voice that sweeps around the room, ringing joyously in his ears.

_I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty__  
__I've got whozits and whatzits galore__  
__You want thingamabobs?__  
__I've got twenty!__  
__But who cares?__  
__No big deal__  
__I want more_

The last note is drawn out, Blaine's eyes solely on Kurt as he finishes the song early. "Why'd you stop?" he questions. In all honestly, he'd happily listen to Blaine's perfect voice all day long, every day.

"You laughed." He can't quite interpret Blaine's tone. He sounds a little embarrassed, and there's something else, something that he can't detect.

"Blaine, you sang _Part of Your World_," he says, like the reason for his laughing is obvious.

Blaine smiles shyly, "I like Disney." He then adds a shrug, placing the guitar to the side of him.

"There's no need to be embarrassed!" Kurt quickly reassures him. "I loved it actually. It was cute."

"Cute?"

Kurt's smile widens as big as the Cheshire cat's. "Yes, like you."

His eyes widen in shocked and surprise, and he feels Kurt's hand in his, squeezing it tightly. He gulps nervously. What is he supposed to say to that? He doesn't remember that last time he'd ever been in a situation like this. Well, that's because it'd never happened before. And he thinks, _maybe_, he likes Kurt. Maybe he likes him a lot.

But how do you act on that?

"How about," Kurt starts when the silence has lasted a little too long, "we do some more songs?" His eyes lighten up. "We could do a duet," he suggests. "Hey, we could sing that one from _Tangled_, but only if I get to sing Rapunzel's part."

He grins – how can he say no that that?

* * *

She goes to start her chemotherapy treatment.

He remembers sitting with her, holding her and telling her not to be scared. She mumbled something back, but he can't quite recall what.

"I'm going to lose my hair," she tell him sadly, "I've always had long hair, ever since I was a kid. It's just…" Her face crumples up with tears. "I'm gonna miss it, you know?"

"I know," he whispers, letting her cry into his shirt.

His fingers gently stroke through her hair as they remain completely still and he tries to imagine her without these long luxurious locks, but he can't do it. It's only hair, he knows that, and it'll grow back, but he feels bad for her.

Maybe it's not just about the hair; she's probably scared too. Hell, she's practically shaking in his arms.

They can get through this. He won't let her be alone. And her dads will be there, and Blaine too. He kisses her forehead gently. "You'll be okay, baby," he tells her.

* * *

He jogs up the stairs, waving to Tina as he passes her and she smiles back, returning to her rounds once he's down the hall.

Rachel's door is already open, which he finds strange as she's usually only just waking up from a nap at around this point and he just sits with her until she's fully awake. Normally they just mumble short, quiet things to each other, so what's going on? Are her dads there?

He's met them before, of course, but they're still a little daunting, especially when they give him that look, that _don't even think about it_ look. And, you know, he totally is thinking about it and worries that they can read minds or something, and then he'll be completely busted and they'll chase him out of the hospital with pitchforks and torches. Well, maybe minus the pitchforks and torches, 'cause they totally don't live in that era anymore, but the point is that they'll be pissed.

So yeah, he's slightly intimidated by the two men.

But, as he turns into the room, his mouth falls open when he realizes that it is most definitely _not_ her dads. Instead, he's looking into the faces of Santana, Puck, Artie, Sam, Brittany, Artie, Quinn, and Kurt. Oh, and there's Rachel in the middle of them.

"What the…?" His face scrunches up in confusion, eyes squinting.

"Finn, your friends are lovely," Rachel announces, clapping her hands together happily.

He looks around the group, eyes demanding answers, but he doesn't want to say anything in front of Rachel, not when she seems so happy. And he's glad that she looks happy. She started wearing a wig, since the chemotherapy. Her fathers had shaved off her hair, and she'd cried. He even cried a little too, but it's hardly noticeable that it's a wig, and she's still Rachel, right? Santana smirks at him, "Lurch, you hear that? We're _lovely_."

Puck walks up to him, clasping a hand solidly on his shoulder. "Hey, buddy. We thought that we'd introduce ourselves to Rachel, since you seem to have forgotten, and we've heard _so_ many great things about her."

"Noah said that you talk about me all the time," Rachel beams, turning back to Brittany who is trying to braid her hair, while Artie, Sam and Quinn are playing a card game on the bed.

"Noah?" He doesn't seem to realize what she'd just said – that he talked about her. And that Puck had told her that.

Santana snickers as Finn sends a glare in the Latina's direction. "I made sure that Rachel knows what to call him. Noah's such a good name, right?"

"Definitely," Rachel agrees. Finn glances at her, her large smile and positive expression not getting lost along the way – she looks happy, really happy, and it's been a while since he's seen her smile so big. She seems to be in her prime under all the attention, basking in being the main focus of everyone. "Finn," she says, snapping him from his thoughts, "do you want to play? Noah is going to teach me how to play poker!"

"He is, is he?" he raises his eyebrow at Puck, as if to ask _seriously_?

He shrugs, "Never know when it might come in handy."

"Finny!" she almost whines, a pout appearing on her plump lips. He instantly blushes at the use of the nickname, especially in front of his friends, who are watching with bemused expressions, and Santana even contributes with a few snickers. This leaves Rachel frowning in confusion, clearly questioning her choice of name. Her gaze drops to the floor, as if she's scared that she's embarrassed him.

But he just holds his head up high and smiles, "I'm coming, Rach."

He catches the shocked look on Santana's face – she'd clearly been expecting him to react differently, to be upset that she's calling him that, yet he isn't. It's just a name, isn't it? And he kind of thinks it's cute when she calls him that, and the way that her eyes light up as it leaves her lips is enough to get his heart beating quickly.

Joining them on the bed, which is really a little too small for all the people who're trying to squeeze on to it, and one of them _is_ Finn, after all. He sits right beside her, pretending not to notice when her head falls against his shoulder, or her fingers brush against his arm that is supporting his body up on the bed.

She looks up at him, her face saying it all. Rachel is content, she's sporting a happy expression, her body completely relaxed and free of stress. Well, for now. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, moving her closer to him.

Puck clears his throat, wearing a cocky smirk.

"What? I'm making more room for everyone."

In response, he hears Santana scoff and she leans over to Puck to whisper something in his ear. Finn watches the exchange between the two, eyebrows scrunched together and lips tight.

Brittany finishes the last part of Rachel's hair, smiling proudly at the neat braids. "It looks pretty." She stares at it and says, "You have really nice hair."

Rachel beams at the compliment, her hand flying up to gently run over the two braids. "T-thank you," she replies, her face a mixture of shock and happiness – it's clear that she's not used to things like that, just the simple interaction of friends. Well, a friend who's a girl, since he's pretty sure that she only sees Tina on a regular basis, and that's when the nurse is working, therefore she can't really spend time with Rachel like this, _girl_ time.

Maybe it's not so bad that his friends are here, maybe it's what Rachel needs right now, especially with the upcoming chemotherapy.

She smiles up at him, and he instantly returns it. It's good to see her happy again, for now. She could revert back to what she'd been like before and that thought is a little scary, leaving his heart sinking slowly in his chest.

He doesn't want that, of course he doesn't. Rachel is so special to him, one of the people that he cares about the most in this huge world, one person that he truly feels is _part_ of him, like they're attached somehow.

And he'll do anything to keep her smiling.

* * *

Unfortunately, what he dreads the most is exactly what happens.

As each day passes, her free time in the hospital allows her to dwell on the future and what is going to happen to her, which she's pretty much convinced herself is going to be terrible, and much more painful than the state that she's in now.

But like, the chemotherapy is supposed to help, it's supposed to be a sign of her getting better, so why is she so sad? Why can't she smile with the act not seeming forced - as though it's a chore to do so?

Why is she just giving up like this?

He truly doesn't understand. She should fight it, he would. He's willing to fight it _for_ her, to take all of her pain away and be burdened with it himself.

He sits with her. She's just woken up from a nap, so she's a little out of it, though all she does is hold his hand and then let out a wistful sigh, the corners of her lips turned upside down, the complete opposite of what they should be doing.

She kind of goes through these mood swings. One day she'll be happy and wearing a constant smile, and then the next she'll be the complete opposite. It kind of throws him, and he never knows how to handle it.

"Did you figure out what you want to do yet?" she asks. This was a popular topic between them. Rachel threw herself into helping him pick a career, or even something to study at college, since she'd been shock at his lack of considerations. And graduation is only a few months away, and he still doesn't know.

But it's scary, going into the unknown, especially feeling as lost as he can be sometimes. Finn pulls a face, "I don't… I don't know."

She's a little disappointed, he can tell by the way her face drops. Had she been expecting him to have chosen something yet?

He knows one thing. "I want to help people."

The corners of her mouth twist into a smile, "You do?"

"Yeah, like… I'm not smart enough to be a doctor or anything, but then I could be an EMT, or I could do something like…work in the police…or the fire service." He searches her face, trying to judge her expression. Does she like the idea? More importantly, does she think that he could do it?

Rachel grins, "You know, I like the sound of those. I could imagine you in a job like that."

"Really?" he breathes.

She nods. "Of course! You know that I think that you could do _anything_. I believe in you." _Even when you don't believe in yourself_, she thinks.

He feels his heart swell proudly and he takes hold of her hand, forming a physical connection between them, he feels the need to. "But what if I screw up?" he can't help letting the insecurities seep in. He could not be a good enough driver, or not pass the acceptance tests or –

"You won't."

"You sound very sure of that."

"That's because I _am_ very sure." She smiles. "You will succeed Finn Hudson, you _will_."

Maybe she isn't going to be on Broadway, or be the famous superstar that she'd always dreamed of being, but her legacy can be helping Finn to become something, to be someone. Not someone big or extremely famous, but someone who makes a difference, whether it be to just one person or a hundred people.

He chuckles, "You're like my own little cheerleader."

"I'm on team Finn," she giggles, blushing slightly. "Oh, God, that was bad…"

"Nah, I like having your support. You're one of the only people that believe in me. Sometimes I'm sure that even my mom thinks I'm going to just end up in a dead end job…"

"Finn," she frowns, about to tell him that that isn't true, that his mother has just as much faith in him as she does, but he cuts her off.

"It's okay, you don't have to lie to me, I know –"

She sits up straighter, gaze stuck to his face. "I'm not lying, and you know that I'm not. One day you're going to be this amazing man, and you're going to go home from a job that you're passionate about to see your wife, and your children, who love you more than anything." It doesn't help that, at this point, he imagines arriving home to find Rachel there, a tiny little girl in her arms. "And you'll have so many friends, and so many people that you've helped, whose lives you've changed. People like me."

"I didn't –"

"_Yes_, you did." She smiles. "You're amazing, Finn Hudson."

He stares into her deep brown eyes, unable to believe her words. How can he have done that? Maybe he can do it though… do something to truly change her life, even if it's one night, one action. But what can he do?

* * *

"This has to be perfect," he says for the hundredth time, and everyone is probably sick of his drilling it into their heads.

"It's going to be," Santana groans, "if you get off your lazy ass and help us rather than dictating what we should be doing." She's the most annoyed and keeps threatening to take back her offer of help, but he knows that she won't – it's all just a bluff. Puck appears beside her, not so subtly staring at her ass. "Puckerman, I can feel your eyes crawling over me. Quit it."

"What can I say?" he grins, "I like to appreciate fine art."

Finn rolls his eyes, "Guys, come on!"

He stops to observe their creations, finally letting the stress leave his body. He'd truly convinced himself that they weren't going to finish in time, but, thankfully, it had been achieved, and now they can start the plan.

He feels Puck's hand on his back as he joins him. "It looks great, man. She's totally gonna love it."

"You think so?"

"I can hear wedding bells already," he smirks.

Completely shocked, he turns to his friend, though he can't hide the blush on his cheeks. The thought of marrying Rachel makes his pulse increase and his head feel dizzy – she'd make the perfect wife.

"Can you stop thinking about Berry for a second and help me with these?" Santana carries a large box of cameras, trying to hide her struggling. Puck swoops in to help, adding a comment about his 'guns' that causes Santana to glare, but soon the two are out of the room, and Finn is staring around the auditorium, his eyes filled with hope and a little bit of fear – what if it all goes wrong?

He quickly pushes that thought to the back of his mind and hurries to join everyone else outside. Finn thinks about all the work that he'd gone through to even have this night, to get her out of the hospital for no more than a couple of hours. But it'll be worth all of the headaches and time waiting and convincing her dads. Just seeing her face light up will be worth it all.

"I can see the car," Kurt walks up to him, tightening the tie around Finn's neck. "There, that's better. You ready?"

Glancing around at the group, he earns nods of confirmation. They're ready, they can do this. Everyone knows what they're doing – he'd convinced the photography club to help out, and his friends seemed happy to help anyway. He looks at Kurt, who smiles back. "I'm ready," he tells himself.

The car rolls by the auditorium, stopping slowly against the curb.

Finn takes a deep breath, and begins walking toward it.

When he opens the door, he's met with a very confused Rachel. Taking her hand, he slowly helps her out, completely in awe of how she looks. The dress was really Kurt's idea, and he deserves full credit and honestly, it looks amazing on her. It's a soft pink dress, the material flowing elegantly all the way to the floor as she steps up, leaning against him in the cold of the night. He suspects that Tina had helped her with the makeup, and he smiles at Rachel, a smile as bright as the stars in the sky that night.

"You look beautiful."

She blushes, running her hands down her arms nervously. "What's going on?"

But Finn just grins, closing the door after her and waving goodbye to her dad, before he links their arms together and begins to lead her around the corner to their set up.

As soon as she sees it, a loud gasp escapes her lips.

The first, and most obvious, thing is the sign. This was only achievable through Artie, who he owed a lot to right now, as the sign was huge, like _really_ big. He doesn't even know how they'd got it onto the building but, you know, no star is complete without her name in bright lights.

He smiles at the "Rachel Berry" sign, sweeping light across everything else and even lighting up her face.

Her eyes then drop lower to the ground as they walk, until they reach the red beneath their feet and she looks up at him with even more shock. The happiness on her face is enough for him –that's all that he's ever wanted, for her to be happy.

"Is this…" she stops, "is this a _red carpet_ Finn?"

"Gotta arrive in style, right?" he whispers back.

Before she can say anything, there's the explosion of camera flashes as pictures are taken from either side of their very own red carpet. At first, she's startled and almost cowers into his side, but he smiles. "Shall we, Miss Berry?" he gestures to the path ahead of them.

She nods her head, linking arms with him again and walking at his side.

"You wanna pose for some?"

Her eyes widen. "But Finn, I –"

"You're the star tonight," he says, "and stars pose for pictures, so go on, have fun."

"Only if you'll pose with me."

Finn smiles, turning her to face one side of the cameras and wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, their body flush against one another. They both smile together, experimenting with different poses. At one point, he literally _sweeps her off her_ feet as he picks her up bridal style. It's not red carpet posing, but he likes the feeling of Rachel in his arms, especially when she rests her head against his chest, giggling softly.

He has to put her down eventually, keeping his arm around her shoulder as they walk further down the carpet, where they're met with another group of people.

"Miss Berry, Miss Berry," Kurt smiles and uses his best reporter voice, "Are you excited about your musical debut?" He sticks a microphone in her face, and the others around him all mumble words of agreement.

"Musical debut?" she frowns, brows knitting together tightly before she looks up at Finn.

He leans down, whispering in her ear. "Just go along with it. What would the star say?" She moves her gaze back and forth between them against, her cheeks aching from smiling so much. They're interviewing her. Finn got his friends to _interview_ her. Oh God, her heart feels like it's about to beat out of her chest, and she wants to cry from happiness, but then that'd ruin her make-up.

She peers to him again and he nods and smiles. Turning back to Kurt, she takes a deep breath. "Yes, very excited to be… on the stage once more. Nothing gives me more pleasure…"

Finn watches her as she speaks animatedly, the smile on her face irreplaceable. This feels good, making her happy. If he could do this every day, he'd die with an accomplished life. She moves from Kurt to Sam to Artie, each time glowing with more joy, but her hand still remains stuck to his, fingers interlocked.

She was born to do this, and he knows that one day he'll be seeing her do it for real.

Santana steps forward, moving Sam out of the way, "Yeah, yeah, all that is nice. Now, let's get down to the juicy stuff. Have you and your… _escort_ done the nasty yet?"

A small gasps escapes Rachel's mouth before she tries to stammer a response. Finn grabs her arm, glaring at Santana. "Come on before you get cold."

"We wants to know," Santana insists, smirking as he leads Rachel to the door. They're just about inside when he hears her say, "Has he tried your berry pie?" Way to be totally inappropriate, Santana.

"Sorry about that," he mumbles to her.

"It's okay." Rachel blushes, staring down at the floor. Her heels click against the steps as they finally get inside the auditorium, and her eyes strain to the front where she sees the single spotlight in the center of the stage, a lone microphone there.

"What is all this?" she stares at him. "The red carpet, the sign, your friends taking my pictures and interviewing me… why are you doing this?"

Finn encases her fingers in his, bringing them against his chest and staring straight into her eyes. "Because you deserve to be the star, with your name in lights, the center of everyone's attention. I'm just showing you what your life is going to be like. You better get used to this, Rachel Berry… this is your future." He pauses, "Well, everything will be real, of course, and you'll be in New York, and you'll have a better escort than me –"

She springs her lips on his, standing on the top of her toes to meet his height. His hands rest on her waist, body in complete shock. This is so much better than the first time they'd kissed, so much more emotional. She grasps tightly onto him, showing that she doesn't want to let go. He doesn't want to either.

Their lips separate for a second, foreheads resting against each other. He spies a tear slipping down her cheek.

"Hey, no tears, babe. You still have to wow me with your song."

She smiles brightly, letting him take her to the stage. He stops at the steps to it, his eyes smiling back at her, "I'm not going up there. It's just for you." Rachel nods, making slow, shaky steps upwards until she's on the stage. She walks across it, arriving in the middle beneath the intense gaze of the spotlight.

The seats are empty, save his friends scattered in the higher seats, but she imagines an audience there, the seats filled with happy, applauding fans and a wide smile spreads across her face.

Then she spots Finn in the middle on the front row, looking more proud that she's ever seen. But he…he's taking off his jacket. Underneath, he reveals the shirt, and she resists the urge to start crying once more, but it's really inevitable at this point. He has the words _Team Rachel _written on his shirt, proudly wearing her name. He points to it. "If you're team Finn, then I thought that I'd be team Rachel."

She wipes her eyes, smiling adoringly at this man in front of her. She's the luckiest girl in the world.

"Sing," he orders, his voice soft, commanding. "Have your moment, Rach."

Rachel smiles, she nods and she wraps her hands around the microphone, staring out into the grand auditorium once more before her gaze returns to Finn, who's taken a seat.

And she sings.

Her voice echoes around the room, leaving Finn entranced in his seat.

He can barely focus on anything other than Rachel, and her beautiful voice, her beautiful _everything_. He doesn't even notice his friends poking their heads down watch him, to watch them. He wouldn't care anyway. Nothing can take his focus away from her.

Before Rachel realizes, it's over and there are no more words floating from her mouth. She feels dazed while at the same time on a euphoric high and then she smiles at Finn and her happiness flies through the roof.

He's on his feet, clapping and cheering.

She cries happily, feeling overwhelmed by this – all of it. Finn has done so much for her, given so many things, and she doesn't know how to repay him, ever. He joins her on the stage. "Rach…that was…wow, you were incredible."

"I love you," she blurts out, and she does. Every fiber in her body loves him more than she can ever say. Her heart beats crazily when he's around and she is dizzy with love. "I love you so much," Rachel tells him again. She just wants to repeat it over and over, shout it out for all the world to hear. She is in love with Finn Hudson. Rachel breathes erratically, vision fogging over for a few seconds – the adrenaline of her performance and her realization leaving her lightheaded.

His face softens, eyes watering. "I-I-"

He doesn't get a chance to say it back. Instead, he has to watch as her eyes loll to the back of her head, and she crumples before him.

* * *

"…and then she just collapsed," Kurt finishes the story for Blaine, who'd been begging to know what'd happened to Rachel for over a day now and, as she's barely able to tell him herself, he felt the need to reassure Blaine that his friend was going to be fine. "But the doctors say that she's okay now."

"I just don't understand why it happened…" he stares ahead, "she was getting better."

Kurt's face falls, eyes sad. He feels for Blaine, he really does. One of his best friend's is lying in a hospital bed, barely strong enough to do as much as sit up, and he's not even allowed to go and see her, to make sure that she's alright.

But then again, he doesn't want to lie to him about her condition either. Blaine means more to him than that, and he shouldn't be hiding the truth from him, no matter how painful it is.

"We can only wait and see what happens…"

He hears Blaine let out a sigh and his hand moves up to join his, hesitant at first before he wraps his fingers around Blaine's hand, unable to keep his lips from curving into a sweet smile. "Thank you for telling me," Blaine says, eyes lowering to their joined hands. The very sight of it causes his heartbeat to rise to a probably dangerous level. "No one else would," he adds.

"I just _had_ to," Kurt admits. He bites his lips, eyes darting about the room before landing on Blaine once more. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm worried for Ra –"

"No," he instantly corrects, "I meant you, as in how're **you** feeling? Health-wise. I care about you too."

Blaine's eyes seem to light up at this, a smile gracing his lips. "I'm fine."

His eyebrow rises slowly. "Really? Or do you just not want to make a big deal out of things?"

There's a long silence, Blaine visibly thinking about his answer. Eventually, it just falls from his lips, "I don't want to worry you." Kurt gulps, unable to say anything in response, because he is worried and he knows that he shouldn't be – he just _is_. It's the same way that Finn's worried about Rachel, how he's kept up on some nights, drowning in terrible possibilities And having to watch the person that he lo – really cares about in such a horrible situation.

"Just tell me," he says softly, trying to put on a brave face, _trying_ being the operative word.

"I-I… sometimes," he begins slowly, forcing the words out, "I dunno, sometimes my chest hurts, a lot. And then, I feel sick a lot – not throwing up sick, but just…ill…"

He can't look at Kurt as he speaks – he doesn't want to see that way that Kurt's face falls as he speaks. "Oh Blaine," he hears the boy say, his voice almost an angelic whisper. "Have you told Tina, your doctors?"

His silence is all the Kurt needs. "Please, they _need_ to know. They'll make you feel better."

"I know but R-"

"No, this is about you, _only_ about you Blaine." He leans closer, both his hands now cupping Blaine's. He finds himself staring into those eyes, those large puppy dog eyes that draw him in closer without mercy, pulling and pulling until his face is so near to Blaine's that he can feel his shaky breath on his skin

"Kurt, I –"

He takes the plunge. He kisses him. It's sweet and soft and gentle, so gentle – both are hesitant; it's their first kiss, and they're inexperienced. That doesn't matter. His head feels fuzzy, almost delirious with happiness. This is one of the most perfect moments of his life, and he doesn't ever want it to stop.

Blaine's hand moves to cup his face, fingers running against his skin slowly before they dig in, the kiss deepening. He brings him closer, they kiss some more, and they forgot about everything other than the sweet taste of each other, the pure bliss that accompanies their actions.

He feels Blaine's fingers move up to his hair, weaving through it and locking him in Blaine. "Kurt," he whispers against his lips, "I think I love you."

"Hmmm," he smiles, then the words begin to register in his mind. "Wait, what?"

"I-I… I love you," he says. They've pulled apart now, though only barely. They're still only inches away from the other. "I think… I think I loved you from the moment you walked into my room, you were beautiful. And I – I couldn't help but fall for you on the spot.

"And then you came back. You kept me company and you were my _friend_. I don't really have many friends my age, other than Rachel," he smiles softly, encasing Kurt's face in his hands again, forcing Kurt's watery gaze on him, "and the more time we spent together, the harder I fell. And I… I don't know how to _not_ love you Kurt."

Kurt's rendered speechless, eyes brimming with tears and wonder, mouth agape. Did he… did this just really happen?

"Blaine," his voice is high, muffled when he begins to cry, awash with emotion. He doesn't know what to say, so he kisses him back, eagerly, hungrily.

"I love you too," he whispers eventually.

* * *

Her eyes slowly flicker open, feeling like they haven't been opened in years. Gaze completely foggy, she tries to focus on something around the room, but only sees white, and all she can hear is the beep of a machine.

Oh, wait, there are voices.

"Looks like someone's up." That's Tina, definitely. She tries to find her, eventually focusing on her nurse, who is standing to the left of the bed. Her fathers are beside Tina though, seeing her fully awake, they rush to her side, planting kissing on her cheeks and hugging her tightly. Their words are rushed, and she barely hears them, but she smiles anyway.

She hugs them back, or as much as she can because, upon further inspection, she can see the IV drip falling from her arm, and it's pretty hard to hug her daddy with it there.

Wait, why's she got an IV drip in?

Tina must have noticed her confusion, her creased forehead and worried eyes, because she soon steps forward to explain, "You collapsed Rachel."

And then it all comes flooding back. The auditorium, the "red carpet", the singing. Oh, and _Finn_, she can't forget Finn. But then she remembers falling into darkness, and then nothing. She can hear Finn's frightened voice calling her name, his voice breaking like it pained him to watch. She can only imagine how scared he'd been, having to deal with something like that, and an onslaught of guilt washed over her for making him go through that. She can't even imagine how scared he must have been.

"Rachel, what's wrong?" her dad frowns, holding her a little closer.

"Where's Finn?" she questions.

They turn to each other, the actions so slow that it feels as though time has almost stopped. Her heart drops.

* * *

He sits, glued to the seat. He wants to get up, he wants to go and see if Rachel's okay, because he needs her to be. Only, he's scared – what if she isn't? What if she's worse than even he imagines?

The image of her body crumpling to the ground is on replay in his mind and he can't escape it, no matter how much he tries. It hurts to have to watch it over and over, but he can't rid it from his thoughts. She'd just become limp in his arms, falling before he could do anything.

He'd sat with her, cradled in his arms, until the ambulance came.

Finn tries to stand up, forcing himself to go to the hospital. He can't. He wants to slam his head against the wall: this is so frustrating. He isn't supposed to do this – he was supposed to be there when she woke up, ready to lift her spirits.

But he isn't there.

He's here, cooping himself up in this damn house, torturing himself of images that physically pain him to see. Why is he doing this?

A tap on the door brings him from his thoughts, and he's grateful for it.

"Come in!"

He hopes that it isn't him mom, because she just gives him this look, this sad look, and he wants to cry. He feels guilty and scared and he just doesn't know what to do. The reality of his situation with Rachel had finally hit him, and he doesn't know whether he is cut out to watch…_that_ happen to her.

It's Santana.

She glares at him, her lips tight and jaw clenched. "You're a real douchebag, you know?"

He knows, he doesn't need her to remind him.

"She's in the damn hospital Finn, right this second, and she needs you. She needs you to be there and support her, and all that crap."

Finn closes his eyes and, once again, is hit by the same image. "I can't look at her without being terrified. She just…just dropped down. God, I was so scared." He feels his body literally shaking, and he wants to forget, forget everything.

"Whatever you're going through, she's got it ten times worse."

He turns to Santana, her blazing eyes giving him death glares. "I didn't know that you cared so much."

Her face softens at his tone, surprise registering. "You're my friend, of course I care and Ber – Rachel, she's my friend too…" His scoff interrupts her. "She is! I wouldn't have helped you if I didn't care Finn."

She's telling the truth, he knows. She could have not showed up at all, but she did, and she did so much, going as far as helping him with the ideas and making sure that everyone followed the plan. "Thank you for that," he whispers, his voice grateful.

Santana sighs, moving closer to him. "You need to go and see her. Look how miserable you are without her."

"But what if she's worse than before?" He frowns deeply, "I was there once…when she couldn't really do much. It killed me to see her like that, San."

"And it'll kill you more if you spend time away from her, trust me. When you're in love, being away from that person makes you feel like you're incomplete, like you're missing something. And you make it so obvious, Finn." He's taken aback by her words – is this _Santana Lopez_ talking about being in love? "I see you two together. It's like nothing else matters, like the whole world disappears and it's just the two of you...Are you really going to throw that all away because you're scared?"

He stares at her, trying to group together some words. None come. She's right. Why is he doing this? As terrifying as the situation is, the amazing feeling of being with Rachel outweighs any of the negatives, by far.

Finn glances up at Santana, seeing so much compassion in her eyes that it's a little daunting. "She _needs_ you. Let's face it, you make her happy Finn. She looks at you like the frickin' sun shines out of your ass. I've never seen someone more in love…"

She trails off, before adding, "Except you."

"Me?"

She now smirks, "really? You're a complete goner, Finn." He doesn't know whether to be offended or not, then she's grinning and he thinks that maybe it's not such a bad thing 'cause, you know what, being in love is awesome. And it's nothing like he imagined. One day it just hit him, like Cupid's arrow.

He wouldn't take it back though, ever. Being in love with Rachel can be heard sometimes, and can take a real toll on his emotions, but he loves it… he…

He needs to see her, that's what he needs to do.

Without even thinking, he throws his arms around her in a tight, suffocating hug, shocking Santana into a frozen statue. For a minute, he thinks that she's hugging him back. She then snaps into action, pushing him away with a look of disgust on her face. "If I wanted to be smothered by your manboobs, I would have asked."

He just grins.

With a spring to his step, he's out of his room, leaving Santana yelling after him. She'll understand – he's in love.

He runs, and runs, and runs some more until his legs ache with exertion and his adrenaline levels start to sink. But he's almost at the hospital, so, so close to Rachel. He can practically _feel_ her nearby. He makes it there quickly, panting and huffing for much needed air.

Once he's inside the building, he decides to just walk fast 'cause you probably shouldn't run in a hospital. He knows where her room is, and so his feet carry him there without much thought. He's smiling so big that it probably looks creepy, but he's going to see her again.

And sure, he's scared, yet that won't matter when his eyes fall upon his perfect girl.

Room 407. It's here, and he finally has his breath back. He knocks on a couple of times before slowly opening the door, ready to see her again. It's been days.

"Rach," he begins happily, only to cut himself short when he's met with an empty room. What the…?

Where is she? Why isn't she here?

This is her room! She's supposed to be lying in the bed, smiling up at him and telling him how much she missed him, that she's going to be okay.

What if she…?

No, he can't think like that – that hasn't happened. Santana would have said, but then he doesn't know exactly how long ago Santana had seen Rachel and Rachel's dads are probably pissed at him for basically ignoring their daughter, so they wouldn't call and…oh God, what if the worst happened?

He feels sick.

He doesn't know how to focus all of his thoughts. He doesn't know what to _do_. Maybe he could ask someone, yet he knows that if it's what he's dreading then he won't know how to react, or do anything else. Hell, he might find it hard to breathe. Speaking of breathing, he should try doing it now to stop himself from hyperventilating.

Leaning against the door, he slides down it so that his wobbly legs don't give way. His head is a mess right now. Why can't he find her? He – he can feel her, but not see her.

Pain wracks through his body, so hard that he just wants to cry. He even lets a few tears stray. This isn't supposed to happen, it is never supposed to end this way.

And he never got to tell her that he loved her too…

He doesn't know how long he sits there. It could be minutes, but it feels like hours, but then someone is talking to him and he opens his eyes to see Tina, worry etched onto her face. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Finn doesn't know what to say. "Rachel…" he croaks out.

She looks up at the room, and then back to him. "Oh, Finn, it's not what you think." With surprising strength, she helps him back onto his feet, "She's okay, Finn, she was just moved to another room."

He explodes with more tears because, for a moment, he thought that he'd lost her forever.

* * *

Tina leads him to her new room, and just the sight of her brings pure happiness to him. But she's asleep, and he doesn't want to wake her, so he just sits by her bed and talks to her sleeping form, taking her small hand in his much larger one.

He swears that she smiles.

* * *

Her eyes are closed, breathing slow and labored, her chest barely rising at all. Though it is the gentle rise and fall of her chest that actually reminds him that she's alive because, other than that, she's life_less_.

The hand that's resting in his hand twitches, the movement jolting Finn back into his alert mode. He blinks rapidly. She's been asleep for hours, he's not quite sure how long he's been sitting in the bleak hospital room by her side, eyes downcast and tired as he waits for something, anything – a sign that she'll be okay.

But they never come.

She's just slowly slipping away from him.

"F-Finn?" he hears her croak out and looks up to her stare at him under hooded eyes.

She tries to sit up, but the exertion of the act is too much for her weak body and she falls back into the mountain of pillows around her. "Rach," he moves closer, "just try to stay still, babe. Are you in pain?"

She shouldn't be. The doctors have been giving her drugs, anything to cancel out the excruciating attack inside her body. And Finn would rather die than see her in pain. "Not really," she mumbles, yawning to herself. She doesn't seem quite all there, like part of her has already gone – it's withered away.

Finn squeezes her hand tighter, afraid. "Good."

She manages a smile, dry lips curving upwards. Finn chokes out a smile too.

"Why do you look so sad?"

_Really_? She's really asking him? And what is he supposed to say to that anyway? An internal debate sparks in his mind, worrying himself with what ifs and what her reaction could be. In the end, the words fall out of his mouth before he can stop them.

"Rach," he blinks back tears, "you're dying." That's probably the first time he's said it out loud, and sealing it with actual words feels like accepting it, accepting the fact that the girl he loves is going to die.

"I know."

She sounds so _sure_ of it that it's painful to hear. He holds back a sob, face scrunched up with hurt. This can't be happening, it can't. She isn't supposed to die – not when he loves her. She doesn't deserve this, she never has, and it's a cruel game that someone is playing to be killing Rachel Berry, _his_ Rachel.

"Don't leave me," he begs, the words loving, desperate. It's fitting, he thinks. He's desperate to save the love of his life, after all.

"Finn," she coos softly, a soft, warm hand caressing his face. Her thumb rubs over his cheek, catching the fresh tears, "You know that I can't promise you that."

"Then lie to me, I need to hear you say it."

Rachel shakes her head, eyes watery. "I'm not going to lie to you Finn ."

But he wants her to. No, he _needs_ her to. Then it'd be easier to lie to himself, to delude himself into thinking that she'll be okay.

This is all so unfair, it really is. Everything is unfair. And he hates the world right now, hates it for taking her away from him at a painfully slow pace.

He hates having to watch her wither away in that hospital bed. Each time he's sees her she's thinner, paler, weaker.

"I love you," Rachel says, bringing him back to reality, the both of them crying. "I never thought that I'd fall in love. I'd lived in the hospital for months, and I'd accepted that I was going to die – I was relieved because, with death, it meant no more pain, no more tears. My dads could stop worrying, they could move on." She pauses, taking a breath.

"But then I met you."

His breath hitches in his throat and his eyes snap onto her face, unable to move.

"You were this perfect guy that just walked straight into my life without any notice. You were kind, thoughtful, _generous_, and you cared about me. You didn't even know me, and yet you still cared. I think that's when I first felt something, during the first time we met. I saw you standing there, in a suit and with that bouquet of flowers," she smiles at the memory. "You were like something out of a dream."

"Rach, I –"

"You were _perfect_," she insists. "You still are, actually."

Her eyes close for a few seconds, as if merely talking is exhausting her of all energy. The hand cupping his face slides down, but Finn manages to catch it before it drops, pressing sweet kisses against the skin. "Come on, baby," he wills.

When they open again, he sees tears brimming in those chocolate eyes, ready to fall at any second. He'd tell her not to cry, but he's doing the same thing.

"You made life worth living," she confesses, "I'd look forward to every time we met, and I never wanted you to go, ever."

"I'm not going anywhere."

She smiles, gaze softening, "You really are special, Finn Hudson."

It feels like a final goodbye, getting the words out before she can't, before she can't do _anything_.

"You've given me so much. You gave me your friendship, you gave me your blood to keep me alive, but most of all you've given me your _love_, and that was stronger than any medicine. That's what's kept me going all this time."

Why can't it keep working then? If only it was that simple, if love could cure something like this, but it can't. _He_ can't do anything else.

"Rach, you've gotta keep fighting." He's begging now. He'd get down on his knees and beg if it would help.

"Thank you, Finn," she goes on, "thank you for _everything_."

He shakes his head, "No, you can't give in Rachel. Baby, c'mon, you can do this." He wipes furiously at the never ending tears on his face, "I'll help you, of course I'll help you, just hold on a little longer."

Her eyes are closing again. She's _so_ tired.

"I love you," he raises his voice, "you _can't_ leave."

"Shhhh," Rachel goes on. "It's okay. It'll be okay."

It won't. Why can't she see that?

* * *

And when she doesn't wake up the next day, he feels like he's lost her. She's never going to wake up again.

But she's still breathing – she's still _there_.

Her fathers sit beside the bed, but he stands, he needs to pace around the room. Everyone being so quiet is freaking him out and he needs to do _something_, so pacing it is.

"Finn, son, Leroy and I should thank you."

His head snaps up to Hiram, who's staring straight at him.

"What?" his voice is almost numb, completely devoid of emotion.

"For making her so happy. For being a friend to our daughter," he carries on, "and it never would have happened if you hadn't donated the blood to her." Hiram's words are shaky, forced from his mouth. "But, you know what? I think that it was planned all along. You two were matches, and it's no coincidence that it was _you_ who's blood she received."

"I –"

His words leave Finn unable to speak, and hardly able to think either.

It was a plan. A plan, as in God's plan? Finn isn't sure whether he believes in all that stuff, fate and God and all, but he knows that the Berrys do, and so he nods. "Yes, sir."

"It's too bad that it's her kidney," he says, "even after beating the cancer, her kidney has to fail her." His voice is broken, but he tries to sound strong, strong and sure. Finn can see right through it – he's spoken like that a lot lately. "A year that she was on that list, a whole year, and nothing. There are thousands of people out there, so why couldn't one of them save my daughter?"

Leroy's hand moves over Hiram's, hushing him with a gentle squeeze.

But an idea has sparked in Finn's mind, the thoughts whooshing around rapidly as things fall into place.

What if… what if he could still help her?

What if there's still hope yet?

His heart is racing and his head delirious with the wash of thoughts and ideas. But first he needs to talk to his mom; _he's_ happy with doing this, though he needs to make sure that she is.

For the first time in days, a smile appears on his face. It's tiny and not so bright, but it's a smile nonetheless.

"Mr. Berrys, I have a suggestion."

* * *

The Berry's cry, hugging him and kissing him, their gratitude so bright that it's almost blinding.

His mom cries too, and Kurt. Kurt tells him not to get his hopes up, that there's still a chance…still a chance that she might die. He knows, but he has to try.

He cries as well.

* * *

She wakes up, feeling better than she has in days. Her brows furrow together – this isn't right, is it? Is she dreaming, or is she already dead, just imagining that she's here?

"Rachel?"

That's Tina…why is Tina here?

Her eyes focus on her nurse, who is smiling happily back at her, "How're you feeling?"

"G-good," she says. "Better." She can move and it doesn't hurt. "What's going on? I thought… I thought that I-"

"You're going to be just fine," Tina says, "trust me." She begins to check over Rachel, pleased with her progress. "Rachel, I need to make sure that your stitches are healing properly." She delicately helps Rachel move her hospital gown so that she can do so, and Rachel's eyes bulge in shock at the stitches on her skin.

"Tina, what is this? I don't –"

Her nurse smiles. "You got your transplant, Rachel."

"_I did_?"

"Yes."

Tears spring to her eyes, "ut I've waited so long… I – _who_ did this?"

They're interrupted by someone knocking on the door, and her daddy walks in, face lighting up at the sight of her awake. "Sweetheart!" he rushes over, planting a kiss on her forehead and, carefully, hugging her. "So glad to see you better."

"Daddy," she smiles, eyes watery, "I-I…"

She honestly thought that her life was ending, and she'd said her goodbyes – she was ready. But now…she's here and alive. Rachel is overwhelmed by her emotions, face scrunched up as she cries. "Where's dad?" she chokes out.

As if on cue, Hiram arrives, pushing a wheelchair into the room. Her eyes widen at the sight of _Finn_ in said wheelchair, donning the same hospital gown that she is. "Look who I found," Hiram smiles, moving the wheelchair closer before he greets his daughter lovingly.

But she's staring at Finn. He's in a wheelchair, and a hospital gown. Did he…?

"We've got matching scars, isn't that cool?"

All the words get caught in her throat.

"Rach?"

"Y-you…"

His eyebrows furrow, "I what?"

Her hands fly up to her cover her mouth, more tears rolling down her cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see her fathers beaming at her, nodding their heads.

"It was _you_."

He gave her a kidney, not blood this time, but one of his _organs_. She doesn't quite know how to let the information sink in, all thoughts swimming around chaotically.

Finn wheels the chair forward, his knees touching the edge of the bed. "I couldn't let you die and then, when it turned out that I was a match for you, _nothing_ could stop me."

Okay, she's definitely dreaming. This can't be real. She… she…

He takes hold of her hand, "I love you Rachel." He shakes away his own tears, "I'm so happy that you're alive." He then stands, wincing slightly but, with the help of Tina, he sits himself down on the bed next to her. She's a little worried about her fathers seeing that, but they're both still smiling, looking at her like she's not really awake, like they can't fully grasp the idea yet.

Finn leans closer and kisses her softly on the cheek. Before she can say anything, he's peppering her entire face with sweet kisses, causing her to giggle, her face blushing from embarrassment. "Finn," she says.

"Hmmm," he grins.

She's very aware that there are other people around them, unlike Finn, and so she tries pushing him away, instantly feeling guilty when he winces. "Sorry, I –"

He silences her with another kiss. "That was the last one, I promise."

Rachel chuckles, taking hold of his hands. This moment is amazing – she doesn't know what to feel or how to deal with so many emotions at once. Finn and her dads are there, some of the people that she loves the most in the entire world. The only person missing is…

"Where's Blaine?"

Her heart sinks as their faces drop.

* * *

The machine is turned off.

The bed is empty.

Kurt stands against the wall, staring at the made bed. A couple of hours ago he was there. He was alive, and he was smiling

But that is in the past.

He breaks down into sobs, wishing that he could wake up from this nightmare.

* * *

Tina finds him there and she leads him back to Rachel's room, where he's immediately pulled into Finn's strong arms. "I'm so sorry, man," Finn repeats for the hundredth time that day. He has an idea of much pain his brother is going through and he'd never wish that upon anybody – there's nothing worse than watching a loved one die.

Finn sits him on the bed, where Rachel joins in the hug too, crying for her best friend. "I told him that he'd get the kidney," she says, "I lied to him, Finn. I – I…" He silences her with a kiss, where he can taste her salty tears on her lips.

And they cry together.

* * *

"Come on Rach," he says, "it's time to go." Finn is unable to keep the smile off of his face as he enters her room. He finds her stood up, wearing some casual clothes, a soft pink dress, and peering around at the contents of the room. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"It's weird."

His face scrunches up. "What is?"

"I've lived here for so long, and now I'm going home. I just… I don't know…"

"That's to be expected," he explains, slipping his hand into hers. It truly is miraculous to see her so healthy after everything that had happened. After running _so_ many tests, she knows that she is now clear of cancer, and that her new kidney is functioning as well as it can.

It's a gift – her life, especially considering what happened to…to Blaine. He still gets this horrible feeling in his stomach when he thinks of Blaine. Sure, they'd only spoken a few times, but Kurt loved him so much, and his life was ripped away from him, all because he needed a new kidney. But they hadn't been lucky like him and Rachel. They're matches –the transplant had been successful.

Kurt and Blaine weren't matches.

He wishes that he could have helped in some way. It's too late now.

Rachel leans her head against his shoulder, "I feel sad, Finn. Well, happy too, but sad. I don't want to feel like this."

She still misses Blaine too. It'd taken a good week for her to stop crying, but he didn't mind being the shoulder for her to cry on. Not at all.

"Why sad, baby?"

He doesn't actually ever remember them agreeing to date. It just sort of happened and then one day they were boyfriend and girlfriend. He loves the way that she announces him, so proud of him, wearing that big smile – he wants to see her smile all of the time.

"I'm going to miss Blaine. We met here, and we…we…you know, the last time we saw each other was here," she shakes her head, "I really miss him, you know?"

"I know. He's happy now, watching over you. Watching over _Kurt_ too."

"You really think so?"

Finn peers down at her, his mouth twitching to frown at the sight of tears. "I know so." He is sure, he really is, and Rachel should know this. He isn't really _gone_.

"I'm so glad that I met you, Finn."

Now she's smiling, her eyes sparkling. They begin to walk out of the room, and he sees her fathers walking toward them, both happy to see their little girl finally returning to her life. "Why?"

She looks to him. "You sacrificed your blood so that I could go on living. Finn, you kept me alive. But, not only physically…mentally… you gave me hope when I'd lost it." Rachel presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, "I love you so much, Finn Hudson."

* * *

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